Hiraeth
by jbae654
Summary: Hiraeth - the grief for the lost places of your past AU. After defeating Frieza and claiming his rightful place as King of all Saiyans Vegeta struggles with the person he has become under the service of Frieza, and the King his people need him to be. On earth Bulma Briefs has conquered her field and is living a life of luxury. But she longs for the adventures of her childhood.
1. Chapter 1

**Testing the water with this new story. My previous one shot "Last Rite" was a teaser for this, so go ahead and take a peak if you want to.**  
 **Heads up to everyone that doesn't like when things deviate too much from canon - this story might not be for you. Things will be very different, so please keep an open mind.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Bulma leaned back against the cushy seat of the car. She was exhausted, not only mentally but physically. It had been a long week that had reached its climax during today's award ceremony in downtown West City. The new Capsule Corp Dino-Caps for professional industrial use had allowed their new expansion to hit the ground running and revolutionize the field of storage in regards to professional industrial equipment. The mathematics behind the capacity and weigh cancellation of the capsules had been brutal, and she had spent more time than she cared to admit, with a greater team than she cared to admit, just figuring out the schematics. Prototype testing had been frustrating as well, and there had been a stagnant two week time period so heavy with failure that she had seriously started to doubt her own abilities, as well as her further leadership of the company.

She herself had no personal interest or even investment in the professional industrial sector but she had been determined to prove herself in the field, once and for all silencing her last critics. While she was rich beyond measure, beautiful enough to pass as a model, as well as educated and brilliant enough to outshine the rest of her field, in the eyes of many members of the scientific community she had one flaw; she was a woman. A woman smarter than them, while only measuring 5'4, and officially making it into the "fun sized" category of some trashy magazines last years annual reader voting.

If Bulma Briefs had learned one thing early in life it was that the world was full of mediocre men, but held no room for mediocre women. So she strove for greatness in everything she did. Not an easy feat. Her feet ached in their confines of her ridiculously expensive designer heels - to cancel out the height difference men held over her,- and she was sore from last nights excruciating session with her personal trainer. The world also had little room for overweight women. In short, Bulma Briefs, the most brilliant and gorgeous woman on this planet had just won the highest distinction her field had to offer, showing up all the competition, and she was miserable.

In her relentless quest to be the best and create the new capsules, she had sacrificed not only sleep but also her relationship. Feed up with the long hours she invested into the project, and the recent strain a rather public alleged cheating scandal had brought on their relationship, her fiance had called off the engagement. 8 years as a official couple and 2 years of engagement had ended in a phenomenal blow that left her hurling Yamcha's belongings over her balcony, and onto the front lawn of Capsule Corp - yes, not very classy, her public relations manager had told her already - and eating ice cream straight from the carton while sitting in an empty guest room at her home. She had been hollow, couldn't even bring herself to cry over the dramatic ending of her longest relationship.

Now, sprawled out rather un-lady-like in the backseat over her limo, award carelessly tossed onto the empty seat next to her, all she wanted to do was cry. Her hard work had paid off, but the emptiness in her chest had not diminished. She was 29 years old, the most distinguished in her field, and now the most eligible Bachelorette the world had to offer. She lived the lives portrayed in high fashion magazines and TV shows that focused on the illustrious lives of the super rich and she was alone and unhappy. Deep down she longed for adventures like that of her childhood. When she had been young and careless, meeting Yamcha in the desert, tangling briefly with the Red Ribbon Army and falling so deeply in love with the young man that she hadn't even cared that she had not found the last Dragon Ball. It had been buried at the bottom of the ocean and all their attempts to bring it to the surface had failed. In the end, they had coincidentally stumbled upon Master Roshi and his student Krillin before Yamcha joined the Turtle School of Kung-Fu and she went back to finish her degrees as summer ended.

The limo smoothly pulled up into the driveway of Capsule Corp. effectively pulling the young woman out of her reminiscing thoughts. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through her mouth the heiress put on her brightest smile, grabbed the award from the empty seat and exited the car. The lights from the cameras going off were almost blinding, and she struggled harder than usual to keep her professional business smile intact when she waved at the horde of reporters that had already gathered outside her residence. Bulma ignored the shouts of congratulations and questions about future inventions, as well as the occasional question about her private life, when she walked with purpose in her step to the front door, giving one final wave before disappearing into the privacy of the compounds thick yellow walls.

Her heels clattered loudly on the marble flooring, and Bulma was off to the kitchen in search of a strong Mojito without even paying the 35 thousand Zeni custom-designer pieces any mind. The light of the fridge was too bright and she squinted while hunting for lime juice and mint before returning to kitchen island to mix the ingredients. Nipping at her stiff drink with little spirit her gaze fell upon one of the gossip magazines her mother liked to read. Cheap hearsay and inflated rumors were Panchy's guilty pleasure and Bulma often wondered how her mother could stand to read the false news these tabloids usually spewed about their family, or more specifically her. The one currently laying on the expensive counter next to her showed Bulma, on her balcony, furiously screaming at Yamcha, in the Capsule Corp driveway, while thick red lettering read _"Secrets of their nasty break-up! Bulma Briefs dumped and furious"_. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, partly at the magazine and partly at herself, she emptied her glass of liquor and pushed herself off the kitchen island, leave it to the media to ignore the fact that even back then she had been nominated for the award she had just won. Yet all that had made it to print was the sham that was her personal life. It was definitely time to go to bed.

Climbing the stairs with nothing but a hot shower and her bed in mind Bulma took off and discarded her dress the second her bedroom door closed. Another piece of sinfully expensive designer clothing that she wore once and could never wear again. That would be a scandal, Bulma Briefs wearing the same designer dress twice, so what was the use of actually hanging it up?

By the time she finally fell into the soft satin cushions of her luxurious bed she was once again wistful of the lost adventures of her childhood. Being next in line to take over the biggest Cooperation in the world had tied her down, she loved the work, loved seeing the pride in her father's eyes as he slowly transitioned more and more leadership tasks to her, loved the power of creating and designing anything she wanted simply because she had the resources at her disposal. But she had lost the ability to be spontaneous, wild and free. Hunting for mystical wishing orbs and meeting strange boys in crazy places, like the desert, before falling in love with them, like Yamcha. Bulma Briefs had a schedule now, people who looked to her for guidance and a paycheck as well as the next genius idea. Live had become monotone and boring, and as she was drifting off to sleep she longed for more adventures in her life again.

It was 4.08 in the morning when her phone rang and she hadn't even found the strength to open her eyes when she brought the piece of technology to her ear and grumbled a sleepy "yes?". It was the government. Bulma sat bolt upright in bed, stumbling for her laptop before her body had even fully caught on to what the man on the other line was saying. Her laptop hummed to live and she found herself squinting against the harsh glare of the display in her otherwise dark bedroom. As promised there was an email in her inbox, no text, just an attached image. Her breath caught in her throat when the picture finally fully opened on screen, a small countdown in the right corner indicating 25 seconds remaining before the message deleted itself. Almost dropping her cell phone she stared at the image, her skin breaking out in goosebumps prickling all over her body.

"What exactly am I looking at Director?!"

"We believe them to be one-man Spacecrafts. We actually hoped that you could tell us more. You're expected within the hour, a car will pick you up".

* * *

Vegeta groaned as he rolled over and buried his face deeper in the pillows, it was too early to wake up to another day of duty and responsibilities. It was not that Vegeta did not like being a King, quiet on the contrary, he was simply too exhausted to face the council first thing in the morning. The members of the Royal Council had called for a meeting late last night, cutting his training short to address the ever-present issue that he seemed unable, perhaps more unwilling, to solve. _Yet_.

He was aware of his duty to the Kingdom, but there was no use in pressuring a man, least a King, into the selection of a mate to bear an heir. The council members argued that he was getting older and the people restless, that an heir was needed to show that the royal line was going to continue forward. Especially after his father's grave mistakes that had cost almost all of them their lives. A certain member even had the audacity to suggest to him that he didn't need to take a mate, just bed and breed something pretty and strong to whelp a cub. If he had still been the same man he had been under Frieza Vegeta would have killed the old man on the spot for having the gall to even think he could meddle in his private affairs like that.

Somehow that was exactly where the problem lay. He was no longer a soldier under Frieza - thank the gods of Vegetasei - but he was not like _them_ either. His years in servitude under the tyrant had been long and dark, ridden with desperation and the constant worry that he might not live long enough to avenge his father and reclaim the Saiyan throne. It had taken years, many more years than he had thought it would, much more than he had sometimes thought he could survive, but in the end, he had achieved his birthright and ascended. He had beaten Frieza in a battle so close he had only won by the skin of his teeth. What followed after was his return to Vegetasei and the very crown that had always rightfully been his. Everything should have been fine, he had done the task his father had given him when he had handed him over to Frieza as a mere child. A task he had not strayed in achieving even after the lizard killed his father and appointed himself King of Vegetasei, claiming his right to do so by stating Vegeta was too young to be King and he, _Frieza himself_ , now his only legitimate guardian. The audacity of that statement made him seethe even on the present day.

In the years under him, he had become who he needed to be to survive. A development now so deeply embedded within him that it now set him apart from the other Saiyans around him. In his youth he hadn't known better, he was the Saiyan Prince, last of the line of Vegeta, and by all standards everything a Saiyan should be. That was until he had returned, had come face to face with his people and a huge chasm had gaped open between him and the rest of his people. He was withdrawn, his pack almost non-existent and even by the standards of other Saiyans, the greatest warriors in the universe, he was overly brutal. Relishing the kill almost more than the battle itself. Killing your opponent meant living another day. Being withdrawn meant no attachments that could be exploited, no added worries about covering all potential weaknesses. The people he now lead were all but faceless strangers to him, strangers who celebrated him like a God of War for freeing them from under the oppression of Frieza. Strangers he deep down resented for sitting back and placing the hope of their entire race on the shoulders of a child.

He was not that old. Especially by Saiyan standards, he still had many years in his prime ahead of him. And while the relationship with his father had been terrible and filled with pressure and anger he knew _instinctually_ that any relationship he was to have with his own heir needed to be better. He wanted it to be better. But he didn't know how, so he refused the council. He couldn't enjoy intimacy beyond the biological need that it arose from, and the traditional Saiyan courtship and meeting ritual required to dominate one's mate as a show of strength. Something every worthy Saiyan female would insist upon and fight him tooth and nail for. Something that also made his stomach turn, he had no problem with forcing submission, but in this intimate act, it reminded him too much of the countless acts of rape he had witnessed under Frieza's service ever since he was a child. His life experiences forever soiling some of the very bases that constituted Saiyan life and culture.

Groaning he rolled over once more, bare feet hitting the cool floor of his chambers as he observed the rising twin suns that peaked over the horizon, and spilled the red hues of the morning through the enormous windows located towards the foot of his bed. The morning meal would be waiting for him by the time he had finished his light morning warm-up and stretching routine, after that he would meet with his Generals, Merchants, and Ambassadors. A new labor planet had been completed just recently promising to once and for all grant Vegetasei sure footing in the field of technological advancement throughout the Galaxy. In the end, they had all suffered under Frieza, not only in numbers but in the development of many important technological and agricultural advancements.

The re-introduction of gestation chambers had allowed their numbers to rise since his return to the throne some 10 sun cycles ago, and the number of children, especially females, showed promise for the future. With the acquisition of new planets, establishments of labor camps and the joining of other species under the realm of the Saiyan Empire, his reach was rapidly extending.

While Frieza was dead, his brother wasn't and under the still existing threat from the Colds many planets all but flocked like willing sheep to request allegiance with the Saiyans. Aligned Planets swore loyalty to his throne, allowed for the stationing of Saiyan soldiers and a share of their goods to the Kingdom once peer Saiyan Moon cycle. In return, they received the promise of safety from the Cold's and their government structures remained virtually the same, with the addition of Vegeta himself at the very top - should he ever decide to intervene in a planet's happenings his word and decisions would be law. Something unlikely to happen to the majority of their sworn alleys as the Worlds under his command had grown too numerous to examine in their daily occurrences and lives unless crises arose.

At 30 sun cycles of age, he was not only the King of all Saiyans but Emperor of the entire Jovian system. Constituting most of the known Universe and putting serious pressure on the shrinking remains of the Cold empire.

His tail swayed behind him as he patted to the large windows of his chambers, observing the scenery of the World of his birth as it stretched out before his chambers high above the ground. The private royal garden stretched out below him, incorporating a large private lake before being met by palace walls that separated the palace from the capital at the foot of a mountain chain. They were mostly small mountains, reaching and building in height the further one ventured from the capital before the mountains reached their peak at the Mountain of Kings. The resting place for any King of Vegetasei. On mornings like this Vegeta wished to strangle the architect who had designed and build the Royal Palace thousand of Sun cycles prior and thought it a good idea to be having the bedchamber of the reigning King face his final resting place in death.

Rolling his shoulders in agitation at his own thoughts Vegeta turned away from the windows to begin his morning routine. The day would be filled with people demanding his attention, his decisions, his opinions and his dedication, wasting valuable time to be resentful of an old dead fools architectural faux pas was not an option.

By the time he was dragging himself back to his chambers the twin suns had long disappeared behind the horizon, and his late-night training session had done little to ease his agitation about the happenings of the day. He had first beat Nappa and then Raditz into the regeneration tanks before working himself to the bone in the training area.

The hand of his dirty glove was already raised to type in the command for opening his royal chambers when his Head of Planetary Observation and Allegiances came hurrying down the wide and long dimly lit hallway, requesting immediate action to make contact with a small mudball on the very edge of their trading routes. How the kingdoms observational and scouting drones had even found the useless floating rock was beyond him. Who had directed them there in the first place was another topic he dared not even broach, lest he had to beat some other incompetent fool into the ground for wasting his valuable time and resources. With a dismissive hand gesture and growling in anger at the late disruption he send the man on his merry way;

"Just send some fucking pods!"

"Yes, your Majesty!"

* * *

 _ **I hope you enjoyed it!** _  
_**Thank you for reading and on embarking on this journey with me!**_


	2. Not alone

**Here is a new chapter. I hope you enjoy it, things are still being set up but Vegeta will be back in the next chapter. As I have mentioned before please keep and open mind as this is an Alternative Universe and things will be _different._ Also cheers to Bulma being a total Boss in this chapter.**

* * *

Bulma was a whirlwind of movement the second she hung up her phone. Scrambling out of bed so quickly that she ended up dragging her duvet halfway to her walk-in closet. Where she had to stop herself from throwing on a pair of sweats - _no room for a mediocre woman_ , not even at 4.05 in the morning. Yelling at her cell phone to call her assistant the young woman selected a pair of dress pants and a white blouse. Keeping it classic. She was halfway to the bathroom when her assistant finally picked up and Bulma wasted not a single second on pleasantries - or apologies for the early wake-up call - rattling off a dizzying list of equipment she needed to have gathered from her laboratory while she was getting ready to witness history. No, _make it._

In the end, she even had 15 minutes to spare to check the equipment her young subordinate had gathered. While Aika looked like she had stumbled straight out of bed and into her car to fulfill Bulma's orders, her work was perfect. Everything was there, even a few extra tools Bulma had not thought of in the rush of things. Mentally making a note to give the young woman a raise the scientist exited Capsule Corp exactly 58 minutes after she had been woken up.

When the dark SUV pulled up the street and stopped at the curb Bulma opened the door in a cloud of confidence and cooly instructed the driver to load her belongings into the trunk, and to be damn careful with her equipment. She might have been woken up at four in the morning and ordered to appear like a common soldier, but she was still her own boss, and now, styled to perfection and in her element, the world would do good to remember it.

The drive was short and Bulma had to fight the urge to roll her eyes when they pulled up to West City airfield a few minutes later. She could have taken her own hovercraft to come here. A decent size private jet was sitting at the end of the runway and she recognized the routine the crew performed as the final checks before take-off. So the pods had not landed on the western mainland, if they were to hold inhabitants - intelligent ones at that - she hypothesized that perhaps they were headed north. The capital housing the many important governments and global buildings were located in the northern part of the mainland, and given that they weren't already under attack a political agenda seemed most likely to her rational mind.

Her driver opened the door, waving for the crew to indicate that this specific passenger had luggage that needed to be loaded, and then instructed Bulma to go ahead and board the plane. The heels of her designer shoes clicked as she strode across the short distance of the runway before climbing the stairs. The sky was still dark as she stepped through the open door of the jet, yet the horizon was showing glows of orange and yellow, signaling the beginning of a new day. Inside she was greeted by a boring creme and grey interior, only rivaled in its plainness by the old men in dark suits that stared at her the second they notice her. Her spine instinctively straightened to military perfection while she lifted her chin. Bulma surveyed the small group with a cool calculating gaze before striding to a single free chair by the window and sinking into it with all the grace her world-class education and socialization had afforded her. Crossing her legs and putting on her brightest professional smile she was the first to address the men that had fallen into silence at her entry.

"Good Morning Gentlemen. I'm ready to make history"

She skipped her name - it was obvious who she was - and the social etiquette of asking for theirs, Bulma Briefs always opened, and she always closed. The look of disbelief on their faces was priceless, her smile stayed in place with practiced ease and after a few heartbeats of silence, she swiveled in her chair, now fully facing the small window of the jet, cutting off any chance for them to make a comeback. In the business world, she was known to be a shark, the opposite of her father, and she was going to make damn sure this amazing opportunity of potential first extraterrestrial contact went to Capsule Corp.

Another two hours passed before they finally landed and were picked up by two black SUV's. Shortly after that they found themselves entering a government facility in North City. They had been briefed during the flight, the information had been few and far between but somewhat helpful. Three spherical pod-like objects had made an impact on earth at 3.30 this morning. Just 30 minutes before she had been called, her chest filled with pride at that knowledge. It was left out if the objects had been inhabited and Bulma was left with so many questions. How had they moved the pods that quickly? And to a major city on top of it? Why not some facility deep and hidden in the desert of the mainland? Where were the people that came with the flying objects? Bulma's mind was working a mile a minute as their small group strode down a corridor that was illuminated too brightly and poorly soundproofed for acoustics. Her heels clicked loudly only rivaled by the sound of her equipment that was being transported on a trolley behind them. All of her questions were answered a few minutes later when they entered a large meeting room, the sound of the electronic double doors swooshing shut behind her almost complete blurred out by what she saw. Important looking men in suits, dozens upon dozens of dignitaries and heads of state joining the conference via video-call projection, all focused on the three impossibly tall men at the center of the room. Their shoulders were wide, their bodies muscled, dark skin littered with scars. The rest of them was covered by some type of armor.

Wide shoulder pads and skirt pauldrons, the colors, a mix of a brownish yellow and a blue-and green stood in stark contrast to the blood red crest on their chests. Armor she had never seen before, the type of armor she would not have been able to dream up in her wildest fantasies. Hair and eyes as dark as the vastness of the universe from which they quite literally had fallen to earth, but what likely set them apart the most was the dark brown tails waving behind them in an almost amused fashion. As adrenaline rushed through her veins, forcing her to fist her hands at her side to keep them from trembling, Bulma realized they had done this before. Their demeanors too relaxed, their facial expressions too calm. _Predators_. Whoever had sent them had enough confidence that three of them would be enough advocate their cause and to take care of everyone on earth should things escalate. Their clothing suddenly spoke volumes, they were dressed for war, yet they stood in their midst with all the nonchalance of a child at grandmas house. She should have brought a grande launcher, not expensive and sensitive laboratory equipment.

It was like an out of body experience, her focus shifted towards the happenings in the room. People were on phones, establishing video calls and overall just engaged in a flurry of hectic movement. Nobody was _truly_ focused on their guests, staring at them in apprehension before urgently speaking into a phone was about the only interaction directly pertaining to the aliens. Bulma exhaled deeply, this was a crucial moment. The worlds first contact with extraterrestrial life that clearly had the greater technology - and perhaps arguably more brain power - at their disposal than earth did, and yet the supposed leaders of this world acted like hysteric school girls. The picture they were currently painting of their blue planet was not one of confidence and if the small number of guests was any indication they only had one chance to get this right. _To stay alive._

Her legs felt unusually heavy as she forced them to carry her closer into the room, her teeth ground against each other with all the strength she could muster as she walked up to the tallest and undoubtedly largest stranger. Hopefully, her guess was right and he was the one in charge. With the strongest, steadiest voice she could summon Bulma extended her hand in greeting. All War was based on deception, they weren't the only predators in the room, in comparison to them, she was simply posing as a house pet.

"Bulma Briefs. Welcome to Earth. What brings you here?"

The silence that followed her brazen move was deafening. It was as if time stood still, all conversation ceased, the dignitaries look frozen on their screens and even the men on the other end of all phone calls were stunned into muteness. The only one seemingly unimpressed with her act was the bald alien towering above her. He shifted to regard her more closely, revealing a strange contraption covering his eye and ear - communication device she guessed - before curling his lips back in a raptorial smile; revealing teeth so white and sharp Bulma swallowed almost reflexively.

His hand extended towards hers in the same fashion, but he stopped before making physical contact. For a brief moment Bulma contemplated forcing the earth gesture on him and grabbing his hand, she decided against it. Too tall, too strong, too predatory, and possibly a carrier of diseases. The short moment of deliberation allowed her to study the armor covering his hand from his knuckles past his wrist. Some kind of material she had never encountered before, it seemed almost stiff, yet it did not appear heavy or thick enough to cause hindrance, the scientist inside of her was already dying to get her hands on a sample.

When she craned her neck and found his dark eyes again, his mustache twitched, he had noticed her perked interest. Bulma's professional face clamped back down into place with as much ferocity as one slams an iron gate to keep out the enemy.

Ignoring the stares of everyone still around them she gestured to the table in the center of the room, taking a seat herself, secretly beyond grateful to be off of her shaky legs. They had felt like giving out for a traitorous second under the big man's dark scrutiny. All three of the utterly alien giants followed her example. For a moment it seemed like they were growling at another, but then she realized they were merely talking to each other. A deep and guttural language as dark as their hair and eyes. Befitting for men that seemed to have emerged from the stars and looked as if they had been bred solely for war and destruction.

Now that she was less focused on staying upright Bulma surveyed the remaining two men more closely. One had dark long hair, with enough volume to make any woman jealous, his armor was of similar style as that of the bald giant, even though he seemed younger. What gave her that impression she could not say, none of them looked particularly old but her mind just tingled with the intuition that the bald man was not only in charge, but also the oldest. Flicking her gaze between the first two and the third, less muscular, different style of armor, somehow _...cleaner._ Then it hit her, they had not traveled together, well the first two had, they armor showed the same faint scratches, and when compared directly to the armor of the smaller third it became obvious they were also _dirtier_.

"Perhaps while you explain what brought you here we could get you some food, yes?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, her mother would be so proud. That made her lips twitch, who would have thought that one day Panchy Briefs advise to keep guests well fed would be the ice-breaker in extraterrestrial talks? The only thing left to hope for was that they actually understood her.

They did.

All three of them visibly perked up, and Bulma had zeroed in on some poor schmuck standing nearby and commanded him to fetch food before their bald leader had even inclined his head in a hinted nod.

"General Nappa"

His voice took her by surprise, in synchrony with her shock their communication eye-wear beeped, and for a split second, she thought she saw the long-haired alien chuckle. A realization that deeply unsettled her, those were not just for communication. It had literally registered her surprise and alerted them to it. Bulma had no idea that her surprise had merely jolted her Ki level into double digits - something hilarious to every war-hardened Saiyan. As she was composing herself General Nappa pulled a see-through object from the front of his armor and it took Bulma no time to realize it was some sort of tablet. Then he spoke again, his voice deep, his accent thick and his tone serious, demanding efficiency. They had done their research.

"On behalf of King Vegeta, King of all Saiyans, Emperor of all planetary systems with allegiance, and under the rule of the Saiyan Empire, I, General of the Saiyan Army, officially present the Crowns ordinance to join the Empire in return for wardship from the remaining Cold Empire."

As the futuristic tablet lowered to the table the world seemed to un-pause. Suddenly everyone who had seemed frozen to their spot exploded in a flurry of movement and deafening chatter. As her brain absorbed all the information that had been rattled off like a boring menu at an old diner, her stomach twisted, this was not what she had hoped for. None of them had prepared for this, and given the trio of poker faces that was staring back at her, it was also non-negotiable. Very distantly she heard someone say the phrase that would be splattered on the cover of every newspaper if word ever got out;

"Saiyans are here!"

* * *

 _Seven hours_. That's how long it took for all talks to be finalized. Truth be told it was mostly her who had done the talking, the demanding, the negotiating. Most of the officials present had not so discreetly told her to shut up, she was not a head of state, and her forward questions and unblenching postulations had scared them. Fearing she might irreparably piss off the alien men eating food like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps if these talks failed, there wasn't. After a number of dignitaries and heads of states had shown up, things had gotten out of hand, and the absolute physical superiority of the Saiyans had come to show. They didn't just have tails, they could fly, move faster than the naked eye could see and shoot lasers out of their hands.

They were doomed. No weapon constructed by a human mind could hold a candle to the power of destruction their bodies held. But unlike the rest of them, Bulma was fascinated and intrigued, not worried and scared. This was a huge opportunity for mankind, and she was going to take it.

They had known about capsule technology before coming, had demanded shipments of capsules every five weeks, once per cycle of their moon, and the stationing of Saiyan soldiers on earth's soil. Tall, dark, hunky dudes all over the World, someone had raised the question if they were sexually compatible, and to her shame Bulma found herself hoping so. The question was only answered with a chuckle from Raditz. Yes they had finally moved to first name bases, mainly because Saiyans did not seem to have a last name. In return for their demands they promised safety from the Colds, a race more terrifying than the huge giants currently sitting across from them, that would someday come knocking in pursuit of the same technology. Bulma had demanded an inn for Capsule Corp., access to learn, to be part of their technological and scientific team - and a meeting with the man in charge before making the first shipment.

The last demand had caused upheaval, Raditz and Nappa communicating over their - what she had learned to be scouters - for long and tense minutes. It was a multi-line system, she had figured that out a few minutes into the growling of their language, they were both talking to the same person at the same time. Nappa's eyes stayed pinned on her the entire time, it was very obvious that he was talking about her, and was generally not inclined to grant her request. Long-haired Raditz, on the other hand, had long confirmed her suspicion that he was younger, his facial expressions had relaxed from the stoic mask that had been in place, making it easy to read his obvious humor at Nappa's well-concealed displeasure. The younger Saiyan's tail was swaying lazily behind him in the air and as he shot the poor secretary, who was bringing him another plate of take-out, a self-assured grin Bulma was fairly certain that amongst his own race, Raditz was _popular_ with the Ladies.

The official sitting next to her used to moment to lean closer to her, distracting Bulma from her observation of the Saiyans,

"I will have a word with your father when we all make it out of this alive! You are not an elected official and what you are doing here is reckless, you are not representing the government! You have no power nor the right to negotiate!"

His tone was hushed and angry, thick glasses sitting too far down on his nose as he observed the Saiyans who appeared to be lost in their own conversation. Bulma arched a perfectly plucked brow at the man next to her. Who was he again? She had never even seen him before. Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach, she had spent the last seven hours negotiating for the well-being of this planet, had resolutely denied when they wanted to establish strongholds in major cities, had clawed for the truth of the need behind the capsules, had demanded proof of the terror of the Colds. She had done everything in her power to prevent humanity from going belly up while most men at this table at rolled over and played dead! Nobody had a right to question and lecture her now. Her fingers clawed into the armrest of her chair and without any conscious thought, she bared her teeth in a mix of rage and disgust, hissing right back.

"You do that! Be sure to mention how you cowered like a wimp with your tail between your legs!"

 _Not her most professional moment_. It must have done the trick though because Raditz perked up before _stabbing_ Nappa in the arm with his fork - out of excitement or to prove a point Bulma couldn't say - before drawling something into his scouter with a smile that made her stomach knot. Nappa seemed unfazed by the fork that had bent terribly when it had made contact with his skin, it stuck nonetheless and he only growled. A true growl this time, one clearly born of annoyance.

Tapping a spot on their respective scouters in almost eerie synchrony the transmission ended, Nappa's gaze flicked over her in a measuring manner before he leaned back in his chair, he seemed done with these talks.

"Your new Emperor has granted your request. The King of all Saiyans will meet you in 3 galactic standard days."

His tone spoke volumes, he did not agree with the decision made but knew better than to voice his displeasure. Even in the vastness of the Universe, there seemed to be a clear pecking order.

"He is coming here!?"

The voice of the man two chairs down sounded petrified. Like she had said, all cowards. At that even the third man snorted, he had been rather silent throughout the actual negotiations, simply being the one providing a clear list of instructions and expectations that needed to be filled. She had already forgotten his name, but remembered he was to stay behind to oversee the establishment of barracks, space worthy docks and the arrival of soldiers. A lot needed to be sorted out, from currency to cultural expectations and norms, the list was long. They had been assured that he had done it before, that he was good at his job. Given that these men had negotiated with her, a woman, without ever batting an eye or questioning her capabilities, Bulma hoped that things would go off without a hitch.

"No. The King is at no one's call. She will come to him"

* * *

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	3. Of flowers and war - Part I

**Part I**

* * *

She painted her nails the same impossibly blood red as the crest she had seen on their breastplates. Fashionable nails did technically not rank very highly on her current list of priorities but Bulma wanted to send a statement; she was not afraid. Sure she was the first person in the history of mankind to leave this planet to go to _another_ planet, but she was _not_ nervous, she was _not_ scared. After the meeting had concluded she had taken her own personal jet back to West City to get ready for the trip of a lifetime. Some of the elected officials had protested vehemently against her impromptu journey to the stars, but when she had offered to give her spot to one of them - _not really, she had been bluffing_ \- they had all fallen quiet. Bulma was well aware that their quiet acquisition was not born from a place of trust and confidence these people held in her abilities, but rather she was the guinea pig that was sacrificed in the experiment of whether or not the Saiyans could be trusted. Heck, Bulma wouldn't be surprised if some of them secretly hoped they'd rid themselves of her this way. Clearly, they didn't know who Bulma Briefs was.

Crossing her legs and twisting around on the chair of her vanity Bulma surveyed her room, everything was clean and orderly. A medium size of boxes was at the foot of her bed, it held her capsules and subsequently everything she would be taking to meet the King of the Saiyans. There was no going back now. Aika had done an outstanding job with unloading her tools from this morning and helping her re-pack a variety of tools that could potentially be of use in the vast unknown of space. She knew very little of what awaited her other than the fact that Planet Vegeta was warmer and almost three Galactic Standard days of travel from earth. Not that this helped her much in narrowing down how far she would be from the only home she had ever known. Nappa and Raditz either did not know or did not want to disclose the speed at which the pods would travel - which would have been just a tiny detail to help her estimate how far they would go or maybe even how long a Galactic Standard day was. In the end, she just silently hoped that the pods would shield her from the radiation of space. She was too young and beautiful to die like that.

In addition to her nervousness someone had leaked information to the media and the front yard of Capsule Corp had transformed into a pool of hungry piranhas with cameras and microphones, all trying to get their next big story. _Her mother was currently serving them tea and cake._

Blowing on her nails one final time Bulma slipped on her flats. She had decided against heels, it seemed rather unpractical to zip through space in a big ball while wearing shoes that did not allow for steady footing. Her assistant had advocated for boots, but Bulma Briefs was still a Lady, and, if the concept of Kingship on this foreign planet was anything like it was on earth she would not meet some old entitled geezer dressed like a tomboy.

The swarm of reports suddenly became exponentially noisier and as she strode to her Balcony doors, to investigate, she could see why; Raditz and Nappa were already standing in her backyard - shielded from the view of the reporters - the three huge pods slowly descending behind them were not. In a haste, she gathered her belongings, taking the box of capsules and safely tucking it away in her bag before hurrying out her room and down the hallway. The last thing she needed was her mother fussing over potentially very vicious, and definitely very dangerous man. Halfway down the steps, she spotted her father, he was a little paler than usual and clearly looking to catch her in private before she stepped out the back patio door.

"Bulma, there you are! Good, I was just looking for you" he adjusted his lab coat and stroked his mustache in a way he sometimes did to calm his own nerves. He was nervous for her. "Listen, honey, I know you are a very strong and independent woman, your mother and I are very proud of you, but are you sure this is something you want to do? These… men.. they are.."

"Huge? I know Dad, I know. But I think this is a great chance for Capsule Corp. We can learn so much, maybe it'll allow us to do so much good back here at home, and then maybe we won't just be the crazy scientist with his bitch daughter" she smiled weakly at him. Her personal reasons for going seemed petty when sounded out loud. Deep down she shouldn't concern herself what some of the scientific community thought and said behind her back.

Her father simply nodded. Dr. Briefs had learned a long time ago that this was one of the few rare topics Bulma would refuse to listen to him. She was beautiful and brilliant, to him and his wife that had always been enough. It was hard for him to fully understand Bulmas point of view, for which she never blamed her father. She loved him dearly, but he had never experienced the looks she received when people assumed she was simply there because she was the daughter of the most famous man in the world. When her ideas were not taken seriously because she was a pretty woman, and those simply weren't smart, when people assumed she had been hired because the field was so dominated by men that a diversity hire had taken place. Bulma had clawed her way to the top by her damn self, and if traveling through space was what it took to finally fully step out of her fathers shadow, and the image that she was kind of a bitch, she would gladly do it. Besides, hadn't she all but wished for more adventure in her life?

Pressing a quick kiss to her father's cheek Bulma promised him that she would be alright, before striding out into the backyard with her head held high.

Nappa was already sitting inside one of the pods, his tall frame looking cramped in the spherical object that would take him back to his homeworld. The pods were black as the universe itself, with a big red tinted window at the door, one side of each pod was adorned with a larger version of the crest she had seen before. Raditz was taping on his scouter and indicated with a jerk of his head that the pod beside his was meant for her. The blood was pounding in her ears when she approached the open pod, peering inside to inspect the single seat, which seemed too wide for her, but very cushioned nonetheless. In fact, the entire interior seemed very cushy, giving Bulma the suspicion that it was to perhaps make up for a rough landing. Spotting no seat-belts or a harness to strap herself into she prayed to Kami to make it through this without breaking her neck - or every other bone in her body.

Tugging her bag into the small space between the seat and the pod's floor she maneuvered herself into a sitting position. The control panel was located in the still open door in front of her, the keyboard an eerie glossy black that indicated a touch-based interface which only came alive when the pod was "on". Suddenly she hoped she wouldn't have to navigate this pod, she was utterly unfamiliar with the Saiyan system of writing, not to mention that she was not able to speak their language. A few seconds later Raditzs imposing form loomed over the open pod, his fingers taped a few invisible keys on the console and the pod hummed to live with all the power that put their most recent military fighter jet to shame. The skin of her neck prickled in alarm. The strange symbols suddenly flickering across the console made no sense to her, and the Saiyan was typing too quickly for her to gather any useful snippets of information.

"The course is set. Don't touch anything, the pod has a landing sequence that will initiate on its own once the mother-dock has been recognized" he straightened, pointing to an area at the bottom left of the alien keyboard he added, "Stasis can be activated over there, but it'll kick in automatically after a while".

Without waiting for a nod from her he strode off. Panic taking hold in Bulma's chest as the door started to hiss shut, before performing an automated pressurization and temperature adjustment. To Bulma, it felt too hot, she couldn't read a single word of the text that was flittering across the interface, she was unfamiliar with the noises, and as the pod started to hover she caught a glimpse of her parents. Her father looked worried, while her mother was her usual happy self. All at once she was glad that she had said her goodbyes to them in private earlier if she had done it now, Bulma wasn't so sure if she'd have the guts to go through with it. In this situation she was at the complete mercy of people she did not know, something that she wasn't used to. Bulma Briefs was never helplessly at someone's mercy, it was usually the other way around. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she leaned back in the seat and braced for take-off.

For a few terrifying seconds, the pod hummed and vibrated so loudly, as it rose higher into the air, that she was sure it was simply going to explode with her inside it before the noise stopped and she watched as the world around her shrunk with dizzying speed. She hadn't even caught her breath when the view outside her window had gone from Capsule Corp to encompassing the entire planet. The silence was so deafening that her own exhale seemed excessively loud as she leaned forward, observing the blue marble floating in a dark sea of nothing. The moment of marvel was as fleeting as the universe was endless and it faded out of view so rapidly that panic once again clawed at her chest. She was leaving behind everything she knew, and with it, she realized, all her power and influence. Her in this black void she was _nobody._

The whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that was her mind came to a screeching halt when the small interior filled with funny smelling gas. It took her a second to realize that the pod had activated stasis mode, just like Raditz had told her. Before she had a chance to further analyze the situation her eyes drooped shut and darkness surrounded her.

* * *

Awareness returned slowly, it was as if her mind had to fight off heavy smog that had settled in every sulcus and the creases of her brain. The first thing she noticed was the dryness of her throat and the lead-like feeling of her own heavy lids. Then her brain remembered where she was and she jolted to full alertness with the wave of adrenaline rushing through her veins. They had arrived at their destination, hovering in the orbit of a giant red marble, illuminated in part by two twin suns. It was breathtaking. The absolute opposite of earth. Planet Vegeta was a fiery red - like their crests, like her nails - with swirls of light orange clouds that seemed to defy the darkness of the universe with its vibrancy. Why was she hoovering here? Had Raditz not mentioned that the pod would initiate its own landing sequence once they reached the planet and a mother-dock had been recognized? Taking a calculating look at the controls in front of her Bulma tried to assess if anything could have gone wrong, but she had no idea what she was looking for, and the strange symbols blinking in the dark interior of the pod were as alien to her as the world outside the window.

Without warning a holographic screen opened in front of the window, making her squeal in shock in a manner that was not very dignified, Raditz was looking at her with amusement dancing over his features. Sitting back she did a quick pat-down check of her hair and clothing, ensuring she at least looked the businesswoman she was meant to be for this trip.

"We are in line for landing. The dock is busy this morning" his voice sounded a little dry, and Bulma was secretly relieved that she wasn't the only one with a dry throat. Focusing on the window and planet behind the flat holographic screen-like projection, she simply nodded.

"Once you land servants will outfit you with the gear you need to adjust for the gravitational differences"

Bulma's eyes snapped back to Raditz. _Shit_ . In all the chaos she had never even considered possible differences in the planetary gravitational forces, and now felt very silly.

"I'm going to get crushed if I leave this pod?!"

He snorted. A full on snort that indicated how hilarious her question seemed to his ears, and inside of Bulma evoked the strange urge to punch him in the arm as a means of penance like one might do with a good friend. Before she had time to further examine the feeling Raditz spoke again.

"No, the dock is calibrated to a low gravity so all species arriving will be fine till they have been outfitted with their respective gear" something beeped on his side of the connection "Finally, we are up next."

The transmission cut out before Bulma could voice any concerns or ask a single question - too bad she had no idea how to call him back. The pod hummed once more, much less frightening this time around, and on the very corner of her window she could make out another pod descending with her - presumably Nappa or Raditz. Straightening her spine and planting her feet firmly on the ground of the small sphere she braced for entry into the planet's atmosphere. Things went remarkably well, the overall speed with which she was hurtling towards the ground was unsettling and as strange looking buildings and the overall scenery took form and gained in detail she ended up squeezing her eyes shut. When nothing happened she carefully opened her eyes, the pod was now hovering near a giant structure, high above the ground - a peak out of her window gave her that much information. The building seemed to be chiseled directly into the red stone and as the pod glided closer, she observed a hatch opening, perfectly round - like her pod - with the same strange symbols above the opening as on her pods' control interface. It seemed like she was about to dock. The darkness of the opening unsettled her, but there wasn't much she could do. The docking mechanism engaged loudly, shaking the pod slightly, Bulma's heart rate rose with it, the darkness that now enveloped her suddenly flashed blue and she saw an odd kind of liquid running over the window. Now that she listened more closely it was almost like if the small spacecraft was being hosed down. Decontamination? A simple cleaning? Perhaps something to counteract the radiation from space?

The small sphere was spun around and Bulma found herself facing the bright and busy inside of the dock. A strange looking tall creature was already waiting for her, its knees seemed to face the wrong direction - for human anatomy at least - and its body was alarmingly skinny with a long face the same dark yellow color as its skin. The eyes were small red slits that observed her with an expressionless stare. She tried hard not too stare. At least, whatever it was, it wasn't naked, a type of cloth that reminded her of a short sarong skirt was wrapped around its waist. The pod performed a final adjustment of pressure and then the door hissed open, forcing Bulma to rise on unsteady legs and set her first shaky step on a world that was as alien to her as she to it.

The strange creature wasted no time before grasping her wrist between three long fingers with thick, rounded joints, no palm to speak of, and clasped a cool smooth object around her wrist. Bulma involuntarily jerked, the lizard part of her brain screaming danger, while the scientist inside of her reminded herself of Raditz words - this was the device that would allow her to not get squashed like a bug - and if she wanted to be successful in her planetary endeavors she needed to be alive. The device made a faint clicking sound as it closed around her arm, it was long, running from her wrist to the middle of her forearm, the color a simple smooth grey. It hummed slightly before the air around her seemed to fizzle for a short second and then, it was like if nothing had ever happened. The yellow three-fingered alien stepped back emitting a strange clicking sound before turning on the narrow bridge they were standing on and walked off towards what appeared like the dead end of the walkway.

Bulma's eyes flicked in panic over the rest of the docking bay, fully aware that she had been addressed, but unable to understand what had been spoken to her. The language was definitely not the same as the one the Saiyans spoke, this had been different, no growling, closer to an exotic earth language she had once heard, but with a clicking twist. Looking for Raditz she surveyed the structure again, panic rising in her chest, the roof was high above her, it seemed to be open or covered by incredibly clean glass because she could see the red sky with its puffy clouds. The rest of the dock was simply one story upon another, as well as row upon row of pods, all in various stages of arrival, departure and what appeared to be maintenance. Saiyans upon Saiyans mingled on the narrow bridges connecting the pods and various levels, all of them with the impossible dark hair and eyes. A sea of brown tails that were wrapped neatly around armored waists in a variety of colors. A loud shout-like noise below her caught her attention, shifting her focus on the ground floor, several levels below her, it was Nappa, being greeted by what appeared to be a subordinate and, thank Kami, next to him stood Raditz. Now amongst their own kind, they both seemed less intimidating, less tall. Nappa was definitely on the far end of the height spectrum, having a slight advantage over his own kinsmen but Raditz fit right in, all 6'7 of him.

As if having sensed her eyes on him he looked up, dark eyes soberingly intense even from various stories below, he indicated her to follow the yellow servant with an annoyed jerk of his head. Hating to be told what to do, but having no choice in the matter, Bulma grabbed her bag out of the pod and hurried behind the strange creature. With it's oddly positioned and bent knees it was almost unsettling to watch it walk. She caught up with it right at the end of the walkway, before she could dare to ask where they would go from here, the ground moved. It was transporting them to the bottom in a smooth glide and Bulma was immensely proud of herself for not making an undignified noise of surprise. As they arrived on the main floor she also thanked Kami for her decision to wear flats, her legs felt shaky and her brain was still reeling that this was not, could not, be real. It was less crowded on this floor and it wasn't until the strange servant safely delivered her to the two familiar Saiyans, bowing its head deeply, that she noticed the blinking brace around its ankle. A bitter taste rose from her throat, not a servant, but a slave.

Swallowing the taste of disgust and pity that threatened to rise to her throat and facial expression she shifted her attention to Raditz, Nappa didn't seem very fond of her, so she had deducted that rank wise it might be the smarter choice to refer to Raditz as her impromptu guide - not to mentioned that he had sort of volunteered himself for the task.

The air was warm and dry when they stepped out of the large docking bay, a short distance ahead of them she could already make out the towering outline of strange constructions. The ground below them was paved in some kind of smooth shimmering stone, but the natural ground of the warm planet was a dusty red. Suddenly Bulma was glad that she had brought a few summer dresses if this was the temperature in the morning, things would surely be sweltering by mid-day. Ahead of her Nappa and Raditz were busy on their respective scouters, leading her to presume that they were checking in and debriefing. Maybe talk to their families? If that was even a social construct in this strange world. What appeared to be some kind of shuttle station was only a short distance from the bay, and Raditz gestured wordlessly for her to follow him and Nappa onto a sleek and oval shuttle. Its windows were tinted, presumably to shield the passengers from the bright suns, and big enough to transport a small group of people. The door hissed shut behind them and she followed the example of the Saiyans and sunk onto one of the cushioned benches located on either side of the oval-shaped transportation device. A computer voice made an announcement before they took off into the sky and towards the city.

It was quiet in the shuttle and Bulma used the time to observe her surroundings and the city steadily growing closer. Halfway through the commute, they were passed by another shuttle going the opposite direction, and then another, and Bulma realized with startling clarity that this was some form of public transportation.

"You can fly, why is no one flying?" the question had left her mouth before she could stop herself. Dammit. Her goal had been to not appear too interested, or too eager.

"No fly zones" Raditz grunted after observing her with knitted brows for a few seconds. Bulma merely nodded, internally debating if it was a good time to demand to know where they were going, where she was going to be staying, or simply if she could have something to eat. She was starving. Being clueless and dependent did not sit well with her. Usually, she was the one who knew what was happening and directed others accordingly.

"What happens next?" settling on a simple question, instead of a demand. _For now._

This time it was Nappa who answered her. His annoyance over her mere presence ringing clear through this time.

"To the Palace, so you can _meet the man in charge_ ". Apparently, sarcasm was not exclusively a thing of earth.

Swallowing a scalding reply Bulma simply nodded and returned to her observations of the scenery around them. Just as they cleared a mountain chain to their right she thought she saw the impressive towers of a castle. It sat high upon the city they were approaching, drawing the eye to it like a moth to a flame. Turning her head Bulma noted that whoever called that palace home must have a beautiful view of the mountains.

* * *

 **The chapter is broken into two parts - it was simply getting too long. Working on part two as I am posting this.  
** **Thank you for reading, please consider leaving feedback!**


	4. Of flowers and war - Part II

**Since I broke the last Chapter in two I wanted to make this quick so the story keeps flowing.**

* * *

The water in the less than traditional shower was enjoyable and gratifying, just the right thing after making it to the castle and being ushered to her room. The water was flowing freely from the ceiling above her in a manner that reminded her of a tropical rain shower and disappeared into the smooth floor without making a puddle. Her scientific mind was baffled and Bulma had spent more time trying to figure out the science behind the shower than she had actually washed. Three galactic standard days must at least be 4 earth days because once she had been alone Bulma noticed that she did not smell as pleasing as she had when she had left earth. The room she had been given was spacious, with a generous size bathroom and a very nice balcony and view over the capital. Most of the palace was built from a smooth stone the same warm red as most of the planet itself, it had clearly weathered time and war being one of the few structures that were not dominated by the futuristic efficiency that marked the buildings of the capital. By no means was it medieval, far removed from earth's primitive stone hunks, but she couldn't help but be surprised that the ruler of an interstellar society had not moved domains into one of the sleek towering structures of the city.

Service, however, was excellent. Food had been brought to her while she was still locked away in the bathroom and she had been pleasantly taken aback when she found the assortment of fresh fruits and, what she deducted, to be a fish and vegetable equivalent. She had eaten by herself, at a big round table made of warm shimmering brown stone, that had clearly been designed with the planets tall inhabitants in mind. It had nonetheless been delicious and after dressing in business attire more appropriate for the almost sub-tropical temperatures she felt like more of her true self. Finding a single full-size mirror in the bathroom she tucked her dark blue blouse into her waist-high pencil skirt. Given that said skirt ended just above her knees, and the blouse was cut to leave her shoulders bare while covering her collarbones the outfit was breathy enough without seeming casual. After a long debate, Bulma had decided against jewelry, for all she knew diamonds might just be worthless trinkets on this fireball of a world, and the few Saiyan females she had spotted had all worn uniform and armor. An entire race of warriors it seemed.

Pacing up and down the length of her room, Bulma waited less than patiently to be escorted to her meeting. Nobody had given her a time, only assured her that it would be today, and Kami was she ready. Nappa had left their little trio the second they had stepped over the swell of the main gate, and Bulma had to remind herself that he was after all the commander of the Saiyan army, and if the number of people in uniform were any indication he likely was not only an important but also a busy man. Raditz had handed her over to a servant, this one much more human in its appearance and oddly beautiful, and instructed her to take Bulma to her rooms, serve her food and attend to needs she might have. After that, he had excused himself with a sly grin and strode off in the opposite direction the servant was ushering her.

As the minutes ticked by Bulma found herself performing the routine she usually did when she gave an important speech, rehearsing her points, consciously working on her posture and gesturing, introducing herself and sounding out various words so she would not stumble over them later. She was so immersed in her own little custom that the knock on her door almost startled her. Striding over to the control panel next to the door she pressed the first of only two buttons and simply hoped that it would be the right one. It was. Her door glided back smoothly revealing the same soft pink-skinned servant that had brought her to her room, the young woman slightly bowed her head in recognition and motioned for Bulma to follow her.

As they strode down the wide, smooth and imposing hallways of the palace she silently wondered if the servant could not speak or if she was aware of the possible language barrier and had simply opted to save them both the trouble - and potential embarrassment. Making a turn the hallway opened to their right, one red archway followed the next and allowed Bulma to gaze into an enormous garden. It held an impressive lake further in the distance with vibrant rich blue-green water that stood in contrast with its light pink sandy shore. A soft breeze made the almost transparent royal blue fabric in each of the archways dance in a mesmerizing fashion and suddenly she understood why someone might find this palace more appealing than the futuristic design outside the red walls. Bulma was so focused on taking it all in, on memorizing the way back to her room, that she almost did not notice when the servant came to a stop in front of a large door. It was not necessarily what Bulma would have expected, and it wasn't until it opened, revealing a busy cross of mission control and conference room, that she understood this meeting was not going to be held in the throne room. If that was even a thing here.

Deciding it was best to take the bull by the horns she stepped over the threshold of the door and announced herself. No way out but forward, _right?_

"I'm Bulma Briefs. I am here to meet King Vegeta"

Nobody looked up from their respective tasks to acknowledge her, it was likely that nobody here actually understood her, but that was no excuse the ignore her! She had a meeting with their King and she had waited for it like a commoner, this was not going to work. Just as she was about to announce herself with more bit and volume a man came forward, tall and dark like all of them, covered in some form of tight spandex with a minimalistic armor.

"Kale, Head of Planetary Observation & Allegiances, this way, King Vegeta is expecting you"

Bulma had no chance to even protest as he all but pushed her to a door on the far left of the busy room, swiping his hand in front of the sensor and indicating for her to step through. This room was less busy, it's large window facing the capital, it contained a dominating round surface in its middle. Leaning over it was a man, surprisingly young with a flame of black hair, studying a solar system she had never even seen before. It seemed to be an interactive surface as he maneuvered around a few planets before finally lifting his gaze to meet her. His high widows peak inexplicably attractive, his cheekbones dominant and his brows thick and defined. This man was royalty no doubt. Her throat felt suddenly dry, this was not who she had expected to meet. This was not who she had expected to rule an empire of unfathomable size. Then again, what was the ruler of worlds supposed to look like? The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end, prickling all the way up and down her spine, a distant part of her brain whispered that he would be a worthy opponent in all things life. His entire body was covered in dark spandex, adorned by armor with wide shoulders and similar skirt pauldrons to those Raditz had worn as well. His hands and feet disappeared into white gloves and boots that were gold tipped. How did he stand being covered from his neck to his toes when it was all but sweltering outside?!

"Bulma Briefs" she restated her name, with a sure voice "I'm here to negotiate the terms of Capsule deliveries that you had requested"

His lips had twitched at her words and the scientist could not tell if it was out of amusement or annoyance, she had not addressed him by his royal title on purpose. For this to go well she needed to be on even ground, she needed to be taken seriously. The notion itself was a dangerous one. But, Bulma Briefs liked danger, especially if it was as handsome as the man standing across from her. When he simply moved around the big table-like interface she decided to continue, after all, he had agreed to this meeting and she was here.

"You have requested three thousand capsules per Saiyan moon cycle, for the first sun cycle of the allegiance of earth under the wing of your empire" his dark gaze bore into her in a way that made Bulma want to squirm, she pressed on "I am here to tell you that the company I represent is unwilling to do so until further arrangement has been made".

At that he raised an eyebrow, "You seem to be under the impression that the terms of my empire were negotiable" his voice was deep and smooth like velvet flowing over gravel that had been heated by the sun, "they are not. If that is what you have come to tell me, you have wasted both of our time".

His eyes flicked back down to a cluster of stars he was now inspecting, Bulma wanted to hate him for his arrogant reply, but she couldn't. Not when he had respectfully held her gaze the entire time she had been speaking, letting her finish before giving his own answer. He also simply hadn't learned yet that she didn't do with no as an answer. Steeling herself, Bulma stepped closer, her heels clicking over the smooth and polished floor as she came to stand next to him - with some respectful distance of course. Being this close she noted that he was much shorter than his subjects, still towering over her, with what she guessed must be around 6'0, but nowhere near the Saiyan spectrum of 6'7 to 7'0, she had observed thus far. Pushing the observation aside she surveyed what he was looking at for a few heartbeats before pushing again.

"Everything is negotiable. I'm a businesswoman and the deal you are trying to make with me is exceptionally bad" his lips twitched again, this time she was sure it was annoyance "supplying you with that amount of capsules every 5 weeks - the equivalence of a Saiyan moon cycle on my planet - I would only stand to lose money. Yes, your empire has offered protection, but it is from a threat we have never even heard of before the arrival of your men"

The silence that followed was driving Bulma nearly insane, she was used to arguing during a business meeting, both sides trying to make their points with passion and conviction, the Saiyan next to her did not follow those rules. When he finally did speak Bulma's blood was boiling in her veins.

"You are incredibly loud mouthed for coming from a race of weaklings. I could annihilate your race, use the planet for its abundance of water, and force you to produce the Capsules. Much less desirable circumstances, don't you think?"

 _Son of a Bitch._

"My father and I will take that secret to our graves before you can even think you have won" she hissed, her hand clawing at the interface to maintain her composure, "I don't know what kind of operation you think you are running here, but I'm Bulma Briefs and I bow to nobody. You would do good to remember that!"

She had never taken kindly to being threatened or treated like she was weak. At her words King Vegeta straightened, his features twisting in anger before he stepped dangerously close to her, his arms trapping her between his breastplate and the interface. _This was clearly sexual harassment, right?!_ Bulma ground her molars together as hard as she dared, defiantly staring into his dark eyes. She would not be intimidated. This close she could see that his eyes weren't truly black, more like the darkest of greys with lashes that seemed too dark and too long to have been given to a man of war. His neck was wide and his arms thick and muscled without seeming bulky, her mind drew an instantaneous, _involuntary_ , comparison to Yamcha - _who lost by miles._

"You will not intimidate me"

His eyes searched her face before he inhaled deeply and stepped away, his gaze fixated on the window as he stood in front of it before he finally spoke.

"Why should I humor you? What would this empire gain?"

Straightening her shoulders Bulma approached the window, she was _in_. She had prepared for this moment, knew what she wanted and what she, and her company, could bring to the table. If this Saiyan was half as good a man of business as he pretended not to be, then this relationship between their respective worlds would surely be fruitful.

* * *

When Bulma returned to her room later during the afternoon she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the soft plush pillows of her circular bed. The Saiyan King had been a worthy opponent, defying and denying her at every turn and challenging her to the point where she had wanted to stomp her feet and scream in anger. Which of course she had not done, there had been close calls, but the strategist inside her had prevailed and focused on the goal ahead. In the end, she was unable to reduce the number of Capsules the Saiyan Empire demanded, but she had gained entry into the science department and had been allowed to return with a few hand-picked scientist. The condition had been that she, and her team, learned Galactic Standard to communicate with the multitude of species serving under the crown and the Saiyans themselves. When she had advocated her wish to learn the language that was their native tongue the King had denied her to the point of barely contained rage. She had secured a foot in the door for her company and the promised knowledge of a language that was spoken all across the Universe, opening the doors of future possibilities for her even further - so she wasn't _too_ upset.

In return, the King would receive his requested number of Capsules on the schedule he had wished, as well as training equipment for him and his army that she had promised him. The very device around her own arm had given her the idea when she had dried her hair after the shower. If Saiyans could so freely move between worlds of differing gravity then perhaps she could build on that, being physically fit seemed to be deemed the hallmark of what it meant to be a Saiyan, and in a last desperate attempt during their argumentative negotiations, she had played poker on this vague guess.

It was already dark outside when Bulma awoke, the twin suns gave the days on Vegetasei more hours and her body had not yet adjusted to the prolonged period of light. Rising from the plush bed Bulma moved to open the balcony doors and was pleasantly surprised by the warm air of the night. It felt wonderful! From her spot on her balcony, she could see three moons working their way through their lunar phase and towards full glow. Knowing full well that she would be unable to fall back asleep the scientist changed into a summer dress she had brought on a whim, the bandeau top fit snug around her chest and from there the rest of the fabric danced freely down her body to the floor. Its soft peach color had reminded Bulma of a dress she had worn on her first day to university when she had been 13. Opening her capsules and rifling through all the things she had brought, Bulma found what she had been looking for - her book. It had been too long since she had time to sit down and truly relax while enjoying nice temperatures outside. But here in an alien world where she knew nobody, where she was nobody, she suddenly had nothing but time on her hands. She was going to make the most of this beautiful night.

Her chest thumped with excitement when Bulma opened the door and started down the hallway, she felt like a young teenager sneaking around but she had set her mind to find the way into the garden she had seen hours prior. The soft lake shores were simply calling her name to dig her toes into the sand and enjoy a view pages in the moonlight. Trying her best to recall the way back towards the archways and find a way down into the garden from here, it took her longer than she would have liked to admit, and a few guards patrolling the hallways gave her suspicious looks but she held her head high and marched on. Pretending to know where she was like she had a right and purpose to be there. She would find her way on her own, she always did!

By the time she had found her way and was approaching the lake Bulma was giddy with excitement, it felt like she was doing something secret and forbidden. As she had grown older she had all but forgotten how great a little danger felt. In fact, she was so submerged in her own world that she did not notice the lone figure sitting on a rock to the far end of the short waterside. When her eyes found no other than the flame-shaped hair of King Vegeta, sitting on the stone she couldn't help the startled gasped that left her lips, suddenly the feeling of sneaking around turned sour - _she had been caught_.

Her first instinct was to turn on her heel and disappear, then she stopped and turned back around, maybe she could sit somewhere else? It was incredibly nice after all. Her indecision must have been clear on her face, _not_ something that happened to her very often, and to her astonishment, the Saiyan addressed her first.

"What are you holding?"

Her eyebrows rose on their own accord and she stepped closer, raising her book in front of her chest "This? It's a book I've been wanting to read"

"It's on actual paper?" this time it was his eyebrows that rose in surprise.

Bulma stepped even closer, now holding the small book out for him to see, maybe printed books were a rarity in space, where everything seemed to rely on electronic touch-based interfaces. This time around his hands was as bare as the day he had been born, and he reached for the book from her outstretched hand. His body was still covered in the dark spandex-like material, but his armor was gone, he was here in private to enjoy the night - just like her. His fingers grazed the pages as his eyes flicked over the edition, his tail drawing lazy patterns into the air behind him. Bulma found herself fascinated by its movements, seemingly taking place without its owner's conscious thought. Before she had a chance to ask him about it he was locking eyes with her and chuckling, amusement dancing in his features, and Bulma's chest squeezed in a treacherous way at how handsome he looked like that.

"You read of War while dressed like a flower"

His voice lacked the harsh and strict tone he had used during their discussion, reminding Bulma that for him it was likely very late at night. Could he not sleep? And more importantly, why would she care?

"You think I look like a flower?" she couldn't help but softly laugh at the idea, no man had thought of her in such a way in a long time. Truth be told she wasn't even sure she liked the sentiment, she was strong and independent, not sensitive like a flower that withered when the sun left. Handing her back the book he pointed to an abundant set of blooming bushes to their right, the flowers that bloomed on them were the same soft peach tone as her dress, the petals layering much the same way as the flowing chiffon of her dress.

"The Zinnia flower, it's native to this world, but it will grow anywhere"

Bulma nodded in mesmerized fashion, her feet carrying her closer to the flowers and picking one for closer inspection. The air between them seemed relaxed and the following silence was comfortable. After a few heartbeats, she decided to pick a spot in the sand and start reading, if he wanted her to leave, the King would have to tell her so directly. As she worked her way through the pages she noted from the corner of her eyes that the alien man shifted and came to stand a few feet from her.

"How long till I can see a prototype for the equipment you promised?"

His tone was back to the distant, no-nonsense voice he had used when talking to her earlier, even with his thick accent his voice sounded regal and educated, and Bulma recognized the mask he had slipped back into place with practiced ease immediately - she did it all the time. When she did not trust people when it was important to appear consistent, strong, uncrackable when she was often also the loneliest, and under the most pressure. Bulma was not naive enough to believe she could equal the pressure of running Capsule Corp to the pressure of running an empire that spanned endless solar systems.

"You will have a first prototype and blueprints when I return with the agreed upon Capsule Corp installments"

The sand crunched under his boots as he turned on his heels and walked away without sparing her a second glace. He was almost out of her line of sight when he threw over his shoulder,

"You better deliver woman!"

Now, _that_ she knew how to deal with.

"I always deliver Vegeta!"

Her voice was light, carrying her humor at their simple banter, and her heart did that traitorous squeezing thing again when he turned around at her familiar use of his first name. It had rolled off her tongue without conscious thought. His tail swaying behind him in a manner Bulma could not yet place, before he shook his head and clicked his teeth, lifting off the ground in a lazy manner before disappearing into the night.

* * *

 **I know, you have sooo many question  
\- What book is Bulma reading?  
\- Why wasn't everyone an Ape given the 3 moons?  
-What is Vegeta thinking in all of this?  
\- Where did Raditz go?**

 **... etc  
Everything will be answered in the next chapter.  
Thank you for reading!**


	5. Friends and Foes

**I know it has been a very long time since i updated, please forgive me. If any of you follow me on Tumblr you already know that my life has been very hectic and crazy. I vow to be more regular again. Please keep in mind that his Vegeta will be differnt from DBZ Vegeta in the aspect that he has WON against Frieza, is King of his people and already has had 10 sun cycles to acclimate to a new lifestyle. His reactions and ideas will therefore differ a bit from the Vegeta we know from canon.**

* * *

His fingers traced over the edges of the small book in his hands, it had been a very long time since he had held a printed specimen in his hands. The electronic archives that could be accessed with almost every scouter had long replaced this primitive form of information preservation, not to mention that the program could translate any given text into the language needed to share documents and information with another species. Things were much more efficient this way, far removed from this archaic technology that was barely a step up from carving things into stone like his ancestors had millenniums ago.

It was the very same book the female had read in the gardens just two nights prior, and despite the language barrier she had managed to instruct a servant to deliver it to him. On the first page, he had found curved and elegant handwriting, so different from the neat and orderly symbols of his own native writing system.

 _Dr. Bulma Briefs_  
 _Not woman._

Despite her delicate and petite appearance he could not think of a book more befitting of her spirit. 'The art of War', not that they had actually gone to war, but she had been a worthy opponent in their more than heated discussion of the conditions of her puny planets allegiance to the empire. Perhaps for such a race of weaklings, living in utopia, blissfully unaware of the terror that lurked in the universe, discussions were a form of war. Raditz had been right, she was exotically beautiful. Not that blue itself was a rare color in the mixed bag that was the universe, it was how her features combined. Milky skin in contrast to vibrant blue, a shapely and curvaceous body supported by fragile bones, a wild spirit in a soft shell, no ki in a body so Saiyan-like he had fought hard not to do a double take upon meeting her. Nappa had also been right. She was a distraction he did not need. There was no use in appreciating the looks of a woman, especially one from a different, inferior, species when he should be focused on the next strategic step in taking out the remains of the cold empire. Or find a suitable female of his own species - a task still left unfulfilled.

The pit in his stomach was intensifying each time he found himself thinking that their short encounter in the garden alone had been enough to justify the excruciating process of adding another language, and its system of writing, to his nano-chip. Something he had never done before, that's why galactic standard existed, so everyone could communicate effortlessly without the burden of adding or deleting new languages. It was the first time he followed Raditz's advice in this regard, not that he usually distrusted his oldest and closest comrade, but when it came to the female species Raditz was known to be wild and rowdy. If he was being honest with himself Vegeta also knew that he had been looking for any excuse to do something, anything, to break protocol and be free of the burden of responsibilities that had become his life. He remembered being a small boy when his father once told him that one does not know the true weight of the crown unless one wore it. If the dead fool had ever been right about anything it was that. The hot-headed young man that had ascended to the throne 10 sun cycles prior had been replaced with a much more considerate version of himself. While his temper was still short and explosive he had learned to make calm decisions for the good of his people - not his ego.

By all standards of his world Bulma Briefs was weak and undesirable, if he wanted to ease tension and be pleasured he had only to snap his fingers and females would flock to him with the hopes that a night between his sheets would grant them his favor and later the throne. An aspect he could not quite decide if it was a burden or a benefit. Bulma Briefs had done none of these things, she had defied him at every turn and held firm to her points and beliefs, fought for them with little regard to whether or not he had the power to snap her neck. Surprisingly it had excited him on a level that had little to do with sex - but equivalence. She had forced him to challenge her mentally while restraining his superior strength. Not an easy feat to accomplish given that he lived in a world in which physical strength decided one's fate in life.

Perhaps he could blame the slowly filling moons for the odd sense of enticement with the earth female. Three of the moons were already visible in the night sky, gently tugging on the senses of every Saiyan, reminding them that within the next few days the planets orbit would pass through the Rhea belt. Where they would be met by their four rogue moons aligning all seven of the astronomical bodies in the night sky of Vegetasei and ringing in the beginning of a new year in the Saiyan calendar. The large celebrations all over the planet would be topped by the transformation into the mighty Oozaru. Days of feasting and fighting laid ahead of him. Since the ban of transforming and flying within cities had passed the Chaka took place without disrupting the economy - or destroying their own cities - like it had used to so many sun cycles prior. The promise of what was soon to come pulled at his awareness nonetheless, his sense of smell was even more heightened which he blamed in hindsight for picking up so easily on the woman's youth. A smell so tantalizing and unique he had never breathed something similar in all his travels.

Raditz heavy body sinking down into a chair opposite from him brought Vegeta out of his thoughts and back to reality of the present day. It was nearing the late hours of the evening and before him still stood the feast that constituted his dinner. The day had been long and excruciating, deciding on a new system of taxation for allied planets with little resources.

"You'll see her again, then you can fuck her - or allow me to do the honors"

The voice of the older Saiyan was dripping with humor and Vegeta could not help as his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. In hindsight, it was an error to have allowed the older the knowledge that he had taken his advice. Raditz was one of the few individuals that could address him so casually and personally, years of servitude together under Frieza had brought them close, yet it often did nothing to deter Vegeta from disapproving of his obscene and crude commentary - of which there were lots.

"She represents a new allied planet, I'm not interested in _fucking her_ , besides the way you smell indicates you have not been lacking female company in the past few days"

His nose crinkled at the statement, it was true Raditz needed a shower. The book lay all but forgotten next to his plate, the dark cool smooth stone of the table contrasted with his own warm flesh as he slid his hand across its top to bring a bowl of meat closer to him, effectively making it clear that this topic of conversation was over. Training had been cut short today, and the extra protein in the meat would do him good when making up for it tomorrow in the early hours.

"Someone has to keeps the ladies in your harem busy"

Vegeta ignored the jab, the same way Raditz ignored his obvious desire to change topics, and instead focused on his food. While he knew his comrade was joking he was achingly aware others - especially the council of old geezers - were not. It was true, he had a large harem full of rather exotic females. All of them gifts from rulers of linked planets, shows of gratitude, or hopes for favors - all of them untouched by him. Women whose sole purpose was to please him, or anyone he sent their way, did not spark his interest. Raditz, on the other hand, liked to sweet talk and charm anything even remotely attractive into his bed, or against a wall, and Vegeta sometimes wondered who was the whore to whom.

The large sitting room in his royal chambers overlooked the city, balcony doors open wide to allow for the evening breeze to blow through and incrementally ease the tightness in his chest, evenings like these reminded him of the very early days of his childhood, reminding him that he was home at last. However twisted and strange this concept of home had become over time. His mother used to dine with him and his father, at least he believed to distinctively remember so. In the 10 sun cycles that had passed since the defeat of Frieza he had learned to grow less suspicious of his own people and retrained his mind to acknowledge that ties did not always constitute weakness - Raditz sitting across from him was a testament to that - but true intimacy still eluded him. The blue haired spitfire of a woman that had all but demanded entry into his life had stirred the embers in a fire, but also reminded him how unschooled he was in that regard. Unschooled in the art of truly caring for someone that was not his companion through battle and violence. Not to mention that it was a foolish notion without any true future, he was a King and his duty was his people.

Gloveless hands curled into fist against the smooth table surface contrary to his will, sometimes Vegeta feared he would never be able to overcome the resentment against his father, the single person in his life that had set the bases for his trainwreck of a life into motion long before he had handed him over to the son of King Cold. Maybe his shortcoming in the department of true closeness laid with his father and not Frieza. A thought that unsettled him so deeply that he had always pushed it aside whenever it had risen to the forefront of his conscious mind in the past. Now things seemed to have shifted for some inexplicable reason, and the long-repressed memory of his sire's gruesome deed could no longer float idly in the background.

Across from him, Raditz shifted in his seat, instructing a young servant girl to bring him more of an exotic and imported fruit, and pulling him out of his muddled thoughts. Vegeta watched the young Vestarian girl disappear out the imposing doors, she was just one of the hundreds of young maids and servants throughout the palace, all of them from worthless rocks floating in the vastness of space, unable to pay any of the fees and tributes associated with the protection of the Saiyan Empire, and thus having nothing to offer but the manual labor its young people could provide. Most of the young females came to the Palace of Vegetasei more than eagerly, willing to leave their life of hardship behind to live in a world brimming with riches, even if only in service. Just beyond the doors to the royal wing, he could feel Nappa's Ki approaching. The man had become a father figure to him in the trios service under Frieza, and while they usually discussed politics during these food-centered encounters, it always brought back a sense of connectedness that kept him grounded for another day when all he wanted to do was rage and destroy before falling into bed only to rise and repeat the process.

When Nappa reached for the book beside him Vegeta realized too late that he had left it out. The old man flicked through it with raised brows before carelessly dropping it back onto the table.

"She landed without a docking bay in place. Seeing her facial expression upon impact would have been my most treasured possession."

The followed roaring laughter of his two comrades even got Vegeta to chuckle. He mentally noted to take a look at the pods monitoring and recording systems.

* * *

Raditz booming laughter was a testament to just how drunk he was, it was a few nights later and Chaka was only another night away. Their bodies, in their prime, drumming with the promise of the impending transformation, covered their entire skin with a thin layer of sweat that was born from reasons other than the sweltering heat of this summer night. While Vegeta was not drunk, not by a long shot, he felt comfortably buzzed. It had been an excruciating day, being the bastards the Colds were they had come out of hiding just in time to interrupt the most sacred of Saiyan traditions. They had taken heavy hits and losses on some of their more remote planets associated with food supply and labor force, it had taken all the Gods of Vegetasei for him not to kill them all, instead, chewing out the entire upper class of his kingdom with a devastating speech. How had this happened?! He had been promised that the Colds would not slip through the cracks of their surveillance and security systems. All in all, he was surrounded by morons, worthless, clueless, dim-witted clowns. Retaliation was a costly matter, forcing him to inspect and assign soldiers from neighboring planets to travel to the war zones. Given the special time of the Saiyan calendar spirits among the men were low - as to be expected - and tempers had threatened to boil over left and right. All in all it had been a shit show - and had he actually been present, not far away on Vegetasei with his council - Vegeta was sure he would have lost his legendary short temper before the first cruisers even arrived at their destination. Deep down it was what he really craved - a good fight. A fight to the death. His body drumming with pent up energy that needed to be released, his hours of sparring and training had been cut rather short lately and the beast inside of him was raging to destroy. To watch enemies crumble, to spill blood, to leave devastation and emerge victoriously. Being hailed as a God of War was rather boring when never actually having the chance to participate in a war. The words of his council rang in his ears, not without a suitable heir of appropriate age was he to risk his life and the last son of the line of Vegeta.

Their armor lay discarded on the floor of what could be considered his sitting room, sprawled out in big chairs and luxurious couches they had sampled the finger beverages this universe had to offer - excessively. Raditz was recounting a legendary bar fight they had gotten into years ago, Vegeta had still been a teenager, and the only reason he was able to follow the happenings was that he had actually been present. His oldest comrade was unable to contain his laughter, roaring at certain parts of the tale before he had even spoken of it. Thinking back, perhaps that had been the last time Vegeta had actually been drunk. They had been on some outpost dump on their way back from a long mission, and Nappa had made the mistake of falling asleep early, giving them the chance to sneak out and spend their hard-earned credits at some hole in the wall bar. The drinks had been stiff and the glasses sticky, as he remembered a shudder of disgust ran up his spin, and for a short moment, he can't believe how much has changed since then. Raditz had been charming some bartender all night, leaving him in a sour mood, back then - and to this day - he was much shorter than Raditz and for the longest time, he had believed that gave him a disadvantage in all things life. At that memory, Vegeta actually snorted, no longer listening to the tale the other man was telling, another thing that had changed dramatically with the cycles of the sun. Adding to his already sour mood another patron, in drunken feistiness, had called him a little kid resulting in an all-out fight that left the bar in shambles, with only a single measly wall fully intact to balance the roof, and somehow had ended them both in the bed of the bartender and her friend. Nappa had been furious with them, Raditz immensely proud, and Vegeta himself hell-bent on a shower.

When he looked back realized it's likely one of the reasons why they are so close even to this day, because back then, it wasn't important who he was, that he was destined for greatness and to rule their people. It was only important to stay alive another day, grind and survive, make the best out of the cards they had been dealt in life and hope that he would get strong enough to end their servitude.

As the story of their past came to an end silence settled between them. The air that was all but vibrating became calmer too, and as a small drop of sweat chased down his temple Vegeta felt like reality came crashing down with it. Times had changed, but they had not won. Out there among the endless worlds, the Colds still had a stronghold, somewhere, fighting them tooth and nail for the survival of the fittest. Frustration all but boiled in his gut when things come full circle, they were dependent on the new technology the blue planet promised to provide. It was the golden ticket he had been searching for, allowing them to break the limitations of volume and space that came with traveling among the stars. He hated being dependent on others, giving the reigns of power and control to someone else was not something he did. Ever. Furthermore, he would never show a stranger his cards, the truth of how urgently the Kingdom needed them, so he had treated it like just another purchase. Had tried.

"Three thousand is not enough"

It was out before he had a chance to stop himself, it was not a realization, just a truth that was now settling in the air between them. Raditz shifted on the couch to regard him more closely, his eyes suddenly surprisingly clear,

"I know. Maybe you can convince them to make more. There is always something that can be traded, and you've got a lot to barter with Zaluu"

At the term Vegeta curled his lips, showing an impressive set of sharp canines, he hated it when Raditz used this term, Nappa had started calling him that when he had still been a boy on Vegetasei, oblivious to the terror that lurked in this universe. While he was still young for Saiyan standards he was no longer a Prince, or a child, the other man knew that, poking fun at him in his drunken state. He leaned back further into the couch, having read Vegeta's displeasure clear as day, he didn't wait to continue;

"I know, have a cub and we'll have someone else to give the name too." he snorted at his own joke before resuming, "Food for the planets that have been attacked. Armor n' stuff has to wait, you'll get her to make more."

He blamed the alcohol for the easy way Raditz spoke the bitter truth. The original plan had been to send improved armor and weapons to outposts and weaker species, readying them for a potential attack, an attack to which the Colds had beaten them. He was too late and now he needed to use the first load of revolutionizing technology to feet the devastated creatures left behind. For longer than Vegeta would ever admit he had considered letting them starve, fill the capsules with weapons and armor and redirect them to outposts that had not yet been attacked, but he was not Frieza, and he remembered the crushing, gnawing feeling of hunger. No, he wouldn't let his people starve, be it by birth or alliance, in this fight he needed all the help he could get. An admission that was another bitter pill to swallow, to win a war that spanned a Universe a single race would not do. He needed the species and worlds that had sided with the Saiyan Empire, his ascension to the legend he was prophesied to be has helped tremendously in undertaking the first step to true freedom, providing the spark of hope in a dark nightmare of repression, while the Saiyans might not win this war on their own they will be its harbinger. The promise of tearing King Cold apart limb from limb made his soul burn, the transformation of the legendary toiling inside of him at the mere thought. Vegeta knew he couldn't win back the years of his life that had been stolen from him, but he could set history back on its rightful path, with the Saiyans as the undoubted superior warrior race of the universe.

His eyes landed on the book again, in the course of the past few days it had made it's way from the table to the dozens of bottles strewn about by Raditz feet. Absentmindedly he noted to get an update from Chard in the morning, ensure proper progress on earth, and select the first troop of soldiers to head out and help with all potential assembly -some Saiyan muscles could go a long way, and time was of the essence. By leaving him this book the woman had committed a grave error, by the time she would return to Vegetasei he vowed to be ready to beat her at her own game. Bulma Briefs of earth had even been nice enough to leave instructions.

* * *

 _to be continued..._


	6. Takeovers

**TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN. IF YOU DONT WANT TO READ THIS PLEASE SKIP THE ITALIC PART AND THE FIRST PARAGRAPH OF REGULAR TEXT!  
** _It goes without saying that I do not condone violence against anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, identity or gender. Actions descriped here are purley fictional and for the advancement of the story and a deeper understanding of Vegeta_

* * *

 _The drawer glided open without a sound and he had to pause to check his breathing and his technique. He was slowly getting better at keeping hi Ki low, it wasn't perfect yet but to anyone not fully focused on him, it gave the illusion that he might just be studying in the next room over. All he needed was an access card, he had seen Father store it here, in this drawer inside his royal study. He had only been inside here a handful of times, each time in the company of his father who had made it clear that he was not to enter this space unsupervised. But in order to enable a higher training level in the workout area, he needed the access card his father possessed, having asked without success for it he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. Over the last few moon cycles, he had been making lots of progress and even Nappa had been extremely proud of him, Vegeta wanted them to be even prouder, he could fight with an added challenge._

 _A small gloved hand reached for the holy grail that was indeed being stored inside said desk, but before he could pick it up the heavy large doors to the study burst open. Afraid that he might have been caught red-handed Vegeta forced his Ki low, despite the panic swelling in his chest, and ducked low behind his father's sturdy secretary. The adults entering the room in a flurry of movement where his parents, his father's deep and booming voice contrasting with his mother's words hissed in obvious anger. From underneath the desk, he could see their feet, he could read the aggression and tension between the two as their conversation left him puzzled, his father was all but demanding something from his mother, who kept denying him with more venom each time she spoke._

 _As the volume of their voices rose he looked for an exit strategy if he could get away unseen his parents would likely have bigger worries than their son giving his tutor a slip for almost an hour before returning to his session. Which was precisely what he was planning to do, if he timed it right perhaps he could leave through the open door of the balcony, it wasn't very high and he could keep his Ki low until the last moment before landing. Shifting on the balls of his feet he faced the window, all muscles in his small frame tense and ready to bolt when a sudden crash behind him forced him to still._

 _His mother was screaming now, a kind of enraged and desperate furry he had never heard before and made his stomach turn. Against his will, his eyes glanced to see what was happening from his spot behind the desk. His field of view was restricted, but he could see his mother, she was on her back clawing at his father with all her might, whose bare hand was holding her by the neck, squeezing too tight. Underneath his suit Vegeta's skin prickled with an odd sense of dark foreboding, something was wrong, very wrong. The small heart inside his chest was hammering so hard he feared it would break a rib when the sudden ripping of fabric brought everything to a screeching halt._

 _Due to his youth, he could not place the noises that followed, the strange rhythm with which his mother's body seemed to be forced against the floor, his own body frozen in shock and fear till his mother turned her head, black meeting black from across the room an-_

* * *

Vegeta awoke gasping for air, his own hand reflexively going to his throat before pushing sweat-soaked sheets down his body with the other. It had been a dream, another long-dead ghost from his childhood coming to mock him and rob him of rest. The memory of that day had laid dormant in his subconscious for years before it had resurfaced later, long forgotten synapses had connected the dots when he had been approaching his early teens and witnessed one of Frieza's soldiers raping a young girl. It was not the first violation of that nature he had witnessed, but it was the first for which he had to stay present the whole time, in a long row of warriors inside of the bastards throne room, bearing witness to a 'reward' they were not deserving of.

Attempting to banish the unbidden recollections Vegeta exhaled deeply, sinking back down into the soft pillows of his bed and forcing himself to examine the patterns of glowing red the rising suns were painting on his ceiling while his mind calmed.

The Chaka which had taken place almost an entire moon cycle ago had done little to ease his tension. While Vegeta had fought like a man possessed during the festivals and had relished the excruciating, skin-tearing, transformation to Oozaru it had been no solution for his true need for battle. After the planet continued to pass along through orbit, leaving four of their moons behind, not to be seen again till the next Chaka, the heat had changed too, going from a oppressive and steamy humidity to a dry heat with airy nights that soothed his bubbling temper. The cooler feel of the air also made it more comfortable to wear a full flight-suit underneath his complete Saiyan attire. With the changes of the season, the dreams had come, first like little specks of light randomly reflected from the suns, before turning into an all-consuming fire that set the darkness ablaze only to allow the shadows of his past to dance on the walls of his mind.

The steady climb of the second sun allowed the jagged edges of the mountains to dance across the walls of his sleeping chambers, in the game of light and dark Vegeta's thoughts drifted to the tasks ahead of him on this early morning. The shadows and his mind were not the only things playings games. Their efforts had finally paid off, and later today he would oversee one of the first spy missions to quite literally bug the main control frame of the cold spacecraft control center, it had been hidden away, out of their reach, for the longest time, but now with an alley on the inside the stars were aligning themselves in their favor. Expectations were clear and the program engineer that had gained entry to the most vital part of the enemies layer was only to be one of many, the first, to give his life -regardless of failure or success of the mission - in a war that was just now truly beginning. The possibility of unrestricted direct access to all spaceship controls and communications fitted under the empire of the Cold dynasty made Vegeta's body roar with excitement.

The main base of operations could always change, knowing the kind of people they were up against Vegeta was painfully aware that they only had a small window of time before the ever paranoid and careful Colds would disappear again. While overall mission control was a vital part of navigating a war, having the power to listen in to all happenings on every ship - which was ultimately what carried soldiers from planet to planet - was a long-term goal promising the greater payoff in the long run.

Weaving his own finger into his unruly dark mane Vegeta forced himself to take comfort in the possibilities of today, the victories today had to offer, in a last attempt to suppress the constricting feeling in his chest that had made a home there the moment he had woken up. He could not change the past and therefore would not allow himself and his feelings to idle in the dark place that had made him who he was today.

As his bare feet hit the pleasantly cool floor of his chamber he also pointedly ignored the fact that today was the day, the earthlings would arrive with their first shipment of capsules as well as a team of scientist to join their own scientific department for the foreseeable future. The blue haired female would be among them and over the past few days he had spent an unacceptable amount of time trying to decide whether or not he wanted to see her again. Indulging in her fiery spirit seemed like a welcome distraction from his daily duties - today's mission aside - but he knew that in the end, it would only lead to the itch of curiosity turning into a rash. The overall situation was downright laughable, under Frieza he had always assumed that the day he ascended the legendary, and then the throne, his days of ever wanting something he could not have were over. He could not have been more wrong. Though he was not sure if he wanted the female in the true sense of the word, or if he simply longed for the pleasant breath of fresh air her quick wit and wild spirit provided.

Running through his morning routine submerged on autopilot, the twin suns cleared the mountain chain as he walked through the still serene hallways of the Palace, guards lowered their heads in respect upon his passing, and unsuspecting maids beginning their morning chorus dropped to their knees with practiced ease. The world he ruled quite literally bowed at his feet, a custom that had been restored upon his ascension to the legendary. The morning light continued its journey towards the highest point in the sky, and as Vegeta stepped outside, pristine white boots making contact with dry red earth, he was pleased to find Nappa and Raditz on his personal training grounds, shielded from prying eyes by thick walls that had weathered the storms of time, waiting for him, ready for another morning of getting their asses handed to them for his warm up.

* * *

When she awoke from stasis this time around Bulma had prepared by bringing a bottle of water to combat her dry throat - as well as an impressive assortment of clothes suited for the humid heat. The giant red marble that was Vegetasei floated in space before her, and having gone through the docking procedures before, she felt a lot more relaxed. The fact alone that there was a docking protocol in place made her blood boil at the mere memory. These Saiyan brutes had actually sent her on her merry way home without giving her a heads up for the rough landing she had been in for. Without a bay in place she had crash-landed in her mother's backyard, leaving a ginormous crater upon impact, ruining the landscape and grazing a concussion - not to mention the bruises she had sustained. If they thought there were not going to be any repercussion the Saiyans had been sorely mistaken - this was not how Bulma Briefs was treated! Much less when representing an, now, allied planet.

The past six weeks on earth had flown by in a frenzy. The sea of reporters and paparazzi outside her home increasing tenfold, along with the company's cost of lawyers to hire. Not only to fend off the media frenzy but also because apparently sending employees to work on a different planet, in a different solar system was a complicated legal feat - no matter the willingness of the vast ocean of people ready to take this once in a lifetime kind of chance. Once legal things had been squared away, the float of willing people to join Capsule Corps venture into the unknown that Vegetasei represented allowed Bulma and her Father to pick only the best of the best. Which had not been an easy task given the limited number of pods that had been made available by the Saiyan Empire. By the time it had been time for take-off the construction of a docking bay had already begun and Bulma was hopeful that it would be ready by the time she returned - whenever that was.

The thought alone unsettled Bulma, returning to earth and finding it different than she had left it. Everything seemed to be changing already, the very fabric of what had made up society and it's believed systems, the Saiyans had wasted little time, sending a decent size troop of - what she understood to be low-class warriors - to help with the construction of their barracks and facilities. While the sea of tan skin and dark hair usually kept to themselves the edges between their species were already beginning to fray, Saiyans mixing in the crowds of restaurant-goers and bar hoppers, while humans mingled for new exciting construction jobs.

The clicking sound of the pod's communication system brought her back to the current moment, shaking her out of her thoughts, it was her turn for landing, this time around Bulma was able to enjoy the slow descent to the surface of the planet. With apt fascination she watched the deep canyon that held the bay take shape, spotting the Capital off in the distance before the pod dropped too low and the shift in angle defied her the view. As the pod performed its last docking checks before finally being spun around to face the inside of the bay the scientist forced herself to take a few calming breaths, sliding her practiced business smile into place. The same creature as last time awaited her, clasping the device around her wrist and forearm with the same indifference as before, it allowed Bulma the brief moment to look around again, seeing that all the pods of her small crew had landed in a single row. Having been briefed about the device her employees took their first steps on an alien world with much more grace than she remembered doing herself.

The ride on the shuttle was quiet, they had what appeared to be a guide this time around, the man looked like every other male of his species and Bulma already couldn't remember his name. No doubt something sounding suspiciously like an earth vegetable. It was odd being here without the familiar faces of Raditz and Nappa, the former had arranged for her to be taken to her room, and programmed her pod for her, while the latter had taken her back to the bay after her visit with the King had concluded. Nappa had sulked about the task the entire way back to the docking station, like a child being made to attend a religious service as punishment, and had all but shoved her into the pod. Thinking about it he was likely also the one who had purposely denied her the knowledge of the rough landing she was going to have.

When the flying oval without a pilot took a different turn than she remembered Bulma perked up, they weren't going to the Palace?! Who was going to be receiving them? Where would they stay?! In the discussion of conditions she had been promised adequate accommodations for herself and her small crew, perhaps it had been a bit rash to assume their rooms would be in the palace - the rift on differences in hospitality gaped open before her eyes. The different route afforded them a splendid look of the palace and its high towers, larger than live rounded windows and lavish balconies. The garden that she had spend her only night in reading, and where she had met the King of this extensive Empire, was hidden from view. Their small troop landed near a sleek and futuristic looking building, not a high rise like the towering architectural feats of the city, but from what she could gather still on Palace grounds - only separated by a small wall more for optical separation than anything else.

Aika was hot on her heels as they were lead down the maze-like hallways of what had turned out to be the science building, they were undoubtedly in the process of getting shown to their rooms and Bulma was the only one that had bothered to dive head first into the task of learning Galactic Standard. This now afforded her at least a small sense of adaptation, and she held her head a little higher as she followed the Saiyan down the hall with sure steps. After a long internal debate, the scientist had decided to bring her assistant along, Aika had a doctoral degree and was technically overqualified to be a mere assistant, but she did such a good job that Bulma had selfishly kept her around - aside from a raise, this was her reward. A once in a lifetime chance - that she apparently still needed to _grow_ into.

The rooms were just as discussed. _Adequate_. A far cry from the luxuries room that had been afforded to her during her first visit. The bed was on the small side, the washroom just a tick too cramped and the light horribly artificial. This was a room given to any random scientist, a worker that spend more time in the lab than in the confines of these four walls, assuming after a long day of work the individual would just fall into the small bed, too exhausted to care for anything else. That was not how Bulma Briefs lived. Not for _one_ night, and not for an extended amount of time!

Her first attempt to angrily storm out of the room and seek an audience with Vegeta, King of all jerks, was cut short, she was not authorized to enter palace grounds for proximity level 2 and not expected by anyone residing within the palace itself. Her face burned with frustration and embarrassment over the scene that had ensued as she turned back around, being all but collected by their previous guide who usher her towards the waiting group of other to be introduced to their area of work.

The laboratories were state of the arc. Something Bulma could not even have imagined in her wildest dreams, no expenses spared, machinery she had never seen before in her life, perfectly temperature controlled rooms. A variety of species, some similar to Saiyans and herself, other so outlandish that it was hard not to stare, milling about dressed in different colors, likely identifying them as part of a team or project. Their assigned project - along with a few of the already established workers - Planetary Shields. How to accommodate in and out-going space traffic, how to power it, the whole nine yards. By the time the ins and out had been explained Bulma was positively inspired by excitement and flung herself headfirst into the project at hand. Relishing the way nobody bothered her much once she had gotten a basic rundown of tools and equipment available to them, as well as already existing plans, something that was a rarity back home in the labs of Capsule Corp where someone always required her assistance, approval or opinion.

By the time she returned to her rooms it was late, very late her team had long since retired to dinner and bed, and she had, in fact, all but forgotten about her previous anger, that was until the doors slid open and reminded her. Being aware of the limited freedom she had in regards to moving around the castle grounds she fumed through her entire shower popping the capsules that held her wardrobe with all but snarling veracity. And that is when a thought struck her, an idea spun of an observation she made months ago. A hypothesis that needed testing.

The night air was much colder than she remembered and her skin prickled in goosebumps in the thin dress as she approached the perimeter guard for a second time since her arrival. If he recognized her his face betrayed no emotions, and Bulma steeled herself, raising her chin defiantly as she tested her assumption about Raditz - his reputation. And place of residence.

"I'm here to see Raditz" her voice was steady, forcing herself to maintain eye contact and sell this lie.

The guards lips twitched in a knowing and amused smile that gave her the strong urge to roll her eyes. _Men. How predictable_. Marching forward with sure steps, as if once again she knew where she was actually going, Bulma made her way to the palace, up to its stairs and through the imposing hallways. Having not the slightest of clues where Vegeta could even be during this hour the scientist strode down the halls rather aimlessly, looking like a girl on a mission all the while to the outside world, till she noticed the increased number of guards. Nobody else would warrant a show of power like this. Following the thicker growing cluster of security still, she reached an impressive set of double doors, a giant ape engraved, towering over the landscape, water cascading at his feet. The final guard took one look at her thin flowy dress and opened the doors for her with a grin that made her stomach drop. This was _too_ easy. Something was going wrong!

Forcing suddenly wobbly legs over the threshold she stepped through, finding herself in a short corridor that lead to another set of doors, and the man she had been searching for. In a _most_ private position.

His body was submerged in the bubbling water, reminding her of an immense jacuzzi, eyes closed, his head in his neck, exposing a strong jaw and thick neck. Her breath hitched. _Had he looked this good last time?!_ This part of the palace containing the pool seemed to be carved in the side of the mountain it stood on, large pillars with intricate engravings supporting the ceiling of the almost cave-like opening, affording a stunning view of the city lights at dark, being contained by a terrace etched out of the deep red stone that seemed to be the trademark of this planet. Her blue oceans found him again, still in the water, still relaxed, his undoubtedly naked form concealed by the ever-moving water. It seemed to be hot, and subconsciously Bulma envied him for being so warm while she had clearly chosen the wrong attire for the night.

"I did not call for your services" his voice a lazy drawl in galactic standard, "go back to whoever sent you" a hand rising out of the water and giving a wave so halfhearted and dismissive only true royalty could master.

To Bulmas great surprise his eyes were still closed and it took her brain a short second to truly understand the meaning of his words. He thought she was a _whore_! Matter of fact, _they had all_ thought she was a whore! That's why she had gained entrance so easily! Her tempered flared so quickly and heatedly it almost made her light-headed.

"I am not a whore!" her eyes narrowed to angry slits, she added in all but a hiss, her accent in galactic standard undoubtedly thick "Your _Highness_ ".

To his absolute credit Vegeta did not flinch, or jerk, he simply opened his eyes and leveled her with a heated and deadly glare. Black eyes piercing into her where she stood by the edge of the pool. His facial expression remained stoic, on guard, and most frustratingly unreadable. He took a short survey of her, in a way that was so far removed from anything sexual that Bulmas ego - which had come to bask in the gaze of hopeful men that found her attractive - recoiled at the apathy her gave her curves, assessing her like a simple target.

"Could have fooled me" his voice was that lazy drawl again, humor only detectable by the smug smirk that was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

At her wit's end, Bulma growled - that got his attention, his eyebrows shot up in obvious amusement and he inclined his head to the side, regarding her with his full focus of attention. Finally.

"I have come to demand better rooms. I was promised adequate accommodations, given my status I hardly consider my current room acceptable"

The silence that followed was excruciating and Bulma felt her anger drain by the second the longer he simply stared at her, those dark eyes of his assessing, calculating undoubtedly making some kind of decision while what happened beneath, within stayed uncovered. For a split second her gaze strayed, dipping low to his naked form concealed under the water, and when her eyes returned to his she wanted to smack herself for he had noticed. The cocksure grin on his face making her palm all but itch. For a moment she thought he was finally going to speak but then the wind picked up and she had to wrap her arms around herself, it was getting cool!

"I will also need access to a shopping area in the city. Nobody warned me that the climate here had taken a dip. _Not very hospitable_ ".

Bulma hadn't meant to blurt this out, but apparently, space travel and a full day of work and acclimatization on a foreign world were wreaking havoc on her mental faculties.

"The capsules you brought were sufficient", ah yes, the capsules, the had all but pried those from her hands the moment she had arrived at the science wing, "I will inspect your progress on the assigned project tomorrow, if you have any new and helpful ideas I shall grant you an update on housing"

"We are allies! I a-'"

" _I am_ your superior, you would do good in remembering that, _Dr. Bulma Briefs_ "

Son of a Bitch.

What happened to the somewhat tolerable guy from last time? From the garden? His voice was dripping with arrogance and frustration in a mix that she had not experienced before, a mix that stirred unbidden reactions within herself. Smacking the smug look off his face? Hailed _and_ common. Wanting to get a glimpse beneath the surface of the water to see if his impressive body was worthy of so much pompous arrogance in all aspects? Not welcome _at all._ Forcing her thoughts back into more appropriate ways of conducting business Bulma leveled him with a searing gaze. If he wanted to test _her_ , mastermind, genius, brilliance personified, she would play his little game.

"Better get a room ready - because by tomorrow I _will_ be in it"

With that she turned on her heels, not waiting to be dismissed, not giving him the satisfaction in doing so, Bulma Briefs was dismissed by nobody. In fact, she did not even bother closing the door behind her - she had staff for that. He had staff for that. As she strode back to her unadorned bedroom in the breezy night Bulma ignored the treacherous feeling straining against her chest.

* * *

 ** _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_**


	7. Watch you crumble

The transit method and carbon Nano-tubes described in this chapter are **not my inventions**. If you are interested in learning more about these existing theories and designs please google them.

* * *

The laboratory was crowded that morning, scientist buzzing about in an energetic flurry Bulma had not experienced the day before. The scientist herself had spent the better part of her night silently fuming at the situation in her too small bed, before putting her anger to use and bringing thoughts and ideas to paper for the current project. The overall field of planetary protection on such a large scale was still relatively new to her - until recently she had dejectedly believed that she had been born too early to explore the universe, only here to observe the first unsteady steps towards the sky being taken - but now, she was on an alien world! Reminding herself of the twisted turn fate had taken to bring her here helped redirect her bristling pride and emotions, and soon her anger had dissipated into intense focus. While she had made progress in her new endeavor Bulma had gotten rather little sleep and being unable to find anything even remotely resembling coffee in the food hall she now had to fight the pulling force of sleep on her own.

Despite the sluggish feeling in her bones, she leaned over the Interactive Planetary System, a version of the very interactive console she had seen Vegeta use during their first meeting, even though she was fairly sure he had used it for a very different purpose, entering the first calculations for a possible solution. While the IPS started the overall rundown of calculations in a variety of different simulations Bulma went to work on sketching out the first rough drafts of a drone design that had come to her as the first blushes of red tinted the morning sky. The dual stars had been a breathtaking phenomenon during sunrise, the red tint reminding her of a past project on earth leading to the genius idea her scientific mind was now putting to paper.

In fact, Bulma was so immersed in her sketching that she did not notice when the Laboratory fell silent. It was the sound of doors swooshing shut, breaking the absolute sudden silence, behind whoever had just entered that startled her enough to look up. On the other side of the lab, straight across from her, the King had entered, Raditz flanking him to the left followed by men she had never seen before. Their dark gazes pinning her to the spot where she stood as Bulma found herself to be the only one upright. All Saiyans had their heads bowed in what she assumed was a show of respect, while all non-Saiyan species had all but dropped to the floor. Her spine straightened almost on instinct as her eyes returned to Vegeta and his entourage, the stony faces of the men behind him spoke volumes about the blasphemous act she was committing, while his eyebrows arched in amusement.

 _He_ remembered how she had venomously sped that she, Bulma Briefs, bowed to nobody. Time seemed to stand still as the unspoken challenge hung between them, the air thick with tension and shock as every fiber in her body screamed at her not to submit, not to go back on her own words. But her rational mind knew the protocol, despite everything she was a guest on this alien world, more precisely she was his guest - and it was likely unwise to piss their new hosts off less than 24hrs into their stay. Heat rose in her neck as stubbornness and the professional awareness for protocol fought desperately for the upper hand. Besides to her, a pink-skinned worker cleared her throat in an almost pleading manner, and Bulma considered that perhaps her refusal could have severe consequences for everyone. Yet steel seemed to have replaced the bones in her spine, her pride would not let her bow, as the facial expression of even Raditz, shifted to a provoked twitch the scientist decided to extend an olive branch - or offend them more. She bowed her head in Saiyan fashion. Blue eyes remained unblinkingly focused on the dark gaze of the man that quite literally ruled them all.

The collective gasp that went throughout the room made it an easy feat to establish that she had broken all the rules. _Good_. Time seemed to stretch on for forever as the King held her gaze, before everything and everyone seemed to suddenly speed up, the Emperor's re-directed scrutiny and first step forward propelled everyone back into motion as if someone had simply briefly played with time itself. Bulma refocused her attention towards the Interactive Planetary System to monitor the stimulations that had run through the system so far, a few of the outputs showed room from improvement in her estimations, and while she was reaching for a pen to work out the problem she noticed her hands shaking slightly. Despite her bravado adrenaline was still pumping through her body, an exhilarating thrill she had missed, but Vegeta was also a worthy opponent that demanded respect like nobody she had ever encountered before.

Engrossed in her work the morning flitted by in the blink of an eye, and the frenzied flow of ideas and inspiration that had taken hold of her after correcting a few mathematical errors carried her even through the realization that King Vegeta was making the rounds, checking on progress and being briefed on success rates, while actively ignoring her. People usually flocked to her, wanting to see what her brilliant mind had conjured up right away, drinking in her innovations like children excited for their birthday, and the fact that she was now likely to be last stung her ego. _It stung a lot._

When gold tipped boots entered her field of view right around the same time as the crowd of workers started to thin out and leave for midday-break - the Saiyan version of lunch - Bulma wanted to howl in laughter and rage. _Well played, well played_. Vegeta had strategically singled her out till the last minute, creating one on one time - likely to rain hell down upon her for her previous behavior - without having to remove her from her station, while simultaneously making her miss a meal - feasibly a punishment. A brilliant move and the previous sting to her ego started to bubble and fester as she conceded this to herself; she had not seen it coming. Perhaps she had pushed too hard.

Heat seemed to radiate off his body in waves as he came to stand next to her, dark eyes studying the display of the IPS, taking in the various sketches and blueprints she had created in addition to the calculations she had run. This close to him Bulmas stomach squeezed again in the same deceitful way it had when she had first met him; when she had found him in the gardens, when she had interrupted his bath. Heat rose to her cheeks. It was not fair that the ruler of the Universe, and undoubtedly greatest jerk, was _this_ handsome. To her great bewilderment, his eyes remained trained on the task at hand and he stayed silent about the earlier ordeal. _Color her surprised._ The sound of Vegeta clicking his tongue against his teeth in obvious annoyance brought her back to reality. Cold, sobering reality. Furrowing her brows Bulma focused on what she did best, solve problems, and so she dove head first into the work spread out in front of them, after all, she really did not want to spend another night in that terribly mundane room.

"I have familiarized myself with the problem at hand" she began, it was obvious that this was more of a small one-sided presentation than anything else, "the ideas previously entertained were all good starting points, but the plasma shields work both ways, meaning while blocking attacks -firing back becomes impossible too. Not to mention the problem with the en-.."

He held up his hand, large and strong and gloved, and Bulma had to fight the urge to roll her eyes with every fiber in her body. Vegeta had been correct in his statement during the previous night, he was her superior, at least publicly - at least for now - and one did not rule such a vast Empire without protocol and respect. If she did not want to be in the next pod home, or dead, she needed to try and be an acceptable guest -even if only partially. If someone would have challenged her in her own territory like this, Bulma would have thrown them out. So with all the professionalism she had attained and mastered, she listened.

"I am well aware of the problems and shortcomings of previous plans. Hence your involvement in this project" he had tilted his head, regarding her with a guarded gaze so intense she briefly wondered if he could read her mind, " I am here to hear new ideas and solutions. _Only_."

Practical and to the point - like Nappa had been when he had landed on earth and shaken everything humanity had thought feasible, briefly she wondered just who had affected who in this regard. Taking a deep breath and surveying her work she told him as precisely and to the point as she could. Told him about the transit method of cloaking the planet's orbital journey for species possibly yet to discover the planet, how a laser beam could counteract the dip in brightness when the planet crossed path with its sun and automatically created an observable dark spot, with some tuning even the emitted laser colors could be matched to Vegetaseis suns. She told him about the potential drawback of making the planetary signal look artificial and thus turning the cloak into a beacon instead, about the possibility of nano-tubes and their light absorbency that would turn the red marble to dark nothing like the rest of the universe. And finally, she told him about her robotic drones, how they could assemble in the higher atmosphere and create a laser grit that would effectively grate any invader like swiss cheese.

Vegeta had listened to her every word, followed along the graphs and blueprints which she had utilized to explain all the options she had thought of, and found herself surprised yet again when he simply listened respectfully and then, without debate, pointed to the blueprint of her laser grit and robots,

"These. Everything else provides too many uncertainties. The entire system will need an immediate and seamless backup should the first grit be knocked down. I desire a prototype within the moon cycle, small-scale preferably before that, plan accordingly."

She simply nodded enthusiastically, immense unsought pride swelling in her chest that he had picked her idea. While she had modified existing concepts and approaches with the other options and added her personal touches to them, the armada of robot drones able to produce a laser grit that could be controlled for by each individual single created cell, hence also solving the entry and exit problem for pods, was truly her mind's own creation. Perhaps her brightest considering how unfamiliar she had been with the overall topic just a few hours before. For the briefest of seconds, her professional demeanor shifted and she unthinkingly gifted him with a bright smile, her eyes surely conveying the satisfaction and excitement she felt, that was until she met his eyes. The professional mask of indifference was still perfectly in place but his eyes held no warmth, cold as the empty void of space she had crossed to be here, and Bulma instinctively knew that her little stunt from earlier would have consequences, his professional demeanor concealing his anger.

Never one to be intimidated Bulma pushed forward, "Per our agreement a new room will be provided for me today". _A statement, not a question_.

Vegeta merely clicked his tongue again and strode away, for a split second she could have sworn he had rolled his eyes in his departure but her attention was diverted to the workstation of her assistant towards the glass windows of the lab. Aika had just settled back into her chair, and of all people Raditz was rather comfortably, casually, leaning into her personal space. Alarm bells rang in the heiresses head in all but war-like glory as she observed the way in which a muscled arm snaked around the back of the chair, the dark-haired young woman Bulma had come to cherish - at least on a professional level - was blushing like a young girl being acknowledged by the guy everyone wanted. _A recipe for absolute disaster_. Her feet were carrying her in hasty steps towards the pair as if she had the actual strength - or right - to hush Raditz away. In the end, she didn't have to, the Saiyan snapped to full attention and was by Vegeta's side and out the door before she had formulated a direct plan of action. As the heavy doors sealed them back into the world of technology and invention she caught the King shaking his head in clear disapproval at his right-hand man.

When she arrived at her bedroom later that day, hours of progress behind her, and a shower the only thing on her mind, even in the terribly small washroom, she was greeted by an unexpected sight. The female servant that was waiting for her, the same girl Bulma had instructed to deliver the book to Vegeta. There was no book in her hands but a simple message, she'd assist in packing if needed and would lead her to her new room. King of all jerks he may be, but man of his word.

* * *

The stars were unusually bright this night and the woman was taking much longer than he had anticipated. A fact that irritated and pleased him at the same time, he hated to be left waiting, but she was obviously a dedicated and skilled worker, willing to invest not only her skills but her time. The blue haired whirlwind of defiance was overall much more irritating than any other being he had encountered since becoming King, the blatant show of disrespect earlier in the lab today still had his blood boiling, his inner beast screaming to rectify the wrong that had been done by spilling her blood, but that would be no real challenge. Human females seemed to be as fragile as twigs on a newly sprouting bush, and Vegeta ignored the uncomfortable sensation that arose with the mental image of her lifeless body. It was nothing, he was simply tired.

This room had a nice view of the Capital, high enough off the ground that she would not be able to follow the lure of exploration and more defiance, the balcony railing pressed into his lower back and Vegeta shifted his weight to be more comfortable. His evening workout had dampened his flaring temper and allowed him to assess his options more clearly. Killing her was not a choice, after having seen what her mind could create in the late hours of the night Vegeta knew that she could bring fresh wind to old problems, not to mention that her father would likely, foolishly, put an end to the delivery of capsules should his daughter die. Those little objects a most valuable commodity at this time. Had some of his council not been present during the routine progress inspections Vegeta was sure he would have outwardly raged at her disrespect. Just thinking about it made his fingers twitch, his muscles begging him to release the pent-up energy and rage; throw, break, scream, threaten. Instead, he had ignored her till the very last moment, after he'd had time to reign his temper and the practical foresight that enduring this would aide his Kingdom in the long run.

Her bright smile, after picking the drone design, had caught him off guard. Nobody had smiled at him like that in a very long time, perhaps his mother before her death, when he had still been nothing but a young boy. The vibrancy of her eyes had made his stomach clench and had he been a lesser man he was sure his stoic expression of indifference would have cracked. She was such a contradiction, blatantly disrespecting him in one moment and preening with pride under his well concealed praise the next. The only stable trait that he was able to observe was the absence of fear. Anger, pride, outrage, joy, sure, but never fear. A very Saiyan trait. Grinding the molars of his teeth in annoyance Vegeta exhaled, he had a clear mission for this night. Training equipment for his personal use and strict rules of conduct that would set boundaries. Boundaries that would _prevent her_ from _evoking him_ with the need to blast her into oblivion for her brazenness and disregard.

His mind was just drifting back to her interrupting his private bathing time, chest clenching in trickery when the swooshing sound of the door opening brought him back to his senses. This close he could feel the weak pulse of her Ki as she maneuvered around the room, no doubt expecting it, as he stayed rooted to the ground on his spot on the patio, it was only a matter of time before she would discover him out here. To his disappointment the woman did not startle when she stepped over the swell of the door, leveling him with a sharp gaze while a hand came to rest on the flare of her hip. _She was so petite, like a doll he could easily throw over his shoulder a-.._

"I was expecting you to be present. This new room is acceptable, but that's hardly why you are here" her voice held no room for nonsense, and her shoulders had squared into what was undoubtedly her battle stance, "are punishments always delivered in person, or am I just special?"

She bit the last part, but it was obvious to him that her attempt at a sarcastic tone of voice did not match the vulgar assumption she had thrown at him, likely to try and make him uncomfortable, catch him off guard. He moved like lightning. Her throat underneath his large, strong hand seemed otherworldly delicate and the beast inside of him relished the way she had to balance on her toes to keep from being completely subjected to his mercy. The frantic beating of her heart a siren song to his ears as he pressed her harder against the sun-warmed walls of his palace. Her pupils dilated in a fashion that all but screamed prey and Vegeta was sure she could feel the air of his words on her skin when he finally asked the one question he had been unable to answer thus far,

"What do you want woman? What is it you are playing at with the constant need of defiance of my person and intrusion of my privacy?"

She was struggling for air and he loosened his grip incrementally to allow her lungs the precious oxygen she required to give him an answer. While she might have been stubborn and smart, she was not his equal, not in strength. Being this close to her it was easy to observe the emotions that danced in her big eyes and Vegeta was sure that the woman was finally going to crack, when hesitation flitted across her face and her eyes hardened. All her talk of alliances and yet what stood between them was one and the same point of hesitation; _distrust_. Much like she had bowed her head in the laboratory to him earlier, Vegeta tried again, in a manner he knew she was familiar with.

"We can not enter into alliances until we are acquainted with the design of our neighbors" *****

The feeling of victory that danced in his chest when her eyes sparkled in recognition made the corner of his mouth twitch. He had been right, she was more than familiar with the book she had given him, holding out till he acknowledged what she had done after they had first met in his garden. The fluidity with which her eyes changed from guarded determination to hesitant vulnerability made his skin prickle, his chest constricting in an odd mix of anticipation and nervousness he had not experienced in a long time.

"Every society that celebrates you is also waiting to watch you crumble" her voice a soft whisper, her words feathering against his face, "I'm not running an empire, but I am painfully familiar with the shadow-sides of being on the very top." His grip on her neck loosened, merely holding, not restricting, "Perhaps this can be an alliance where no one has to crumble".

The honesty shimmering in the depth of her eyes was mesmerizing, Vegeta was not even sure when he had leaned _so close,_ his mind a whirlwind of foreign emotions as a part of him grasped at the glimmer of hope she had conveyed. She was not defying him out of principle alone, she came from a world that was waiting for her to crumble, make a mistake, be imperfect, she was being the only kind of strong that was acceptable by the standards of her race. Recognition bloomed unwelcomely somewhere deep within him and he cursed the Universe. A woman so familiar with the golden cage that came with leadership and duty was the very woman the bars were keeping out.

Scrutinizing her small frame something protective surged inside of him at the misery that hovered unspoken between them and he had to force himself to step back. _This_ was what Nappa had wanted to spare him from, and he could not prevent his own hand from exasperatedly running over his face. The woman had not moved from her spot on the wall, waiting for him to respond to the stinging truth she had spoken. Exhaling deeply Vegeta decided to focus on a spot on the wall just above her shoulder.

"I need the training equipment we had agreed upon. As you can see, " he waved a gloved hand towards the open balcony doors, " I have kept to our arrangement. Now I need to get stronger." Admitting that he needed to get stronger, as if, perhaps, he was not yet left a sour taste in his mouth and Vegeta forced himself to keep going, taking her small nod as the only indication he needed, "you will work all the necessary calculations and designs so that your team can take over, then you will be reassigned to design my personal equipment. As soon as you can manage"

 _Because the Cold's are breathing down our necks._ Watching determination flicker in her eyes at his words was strangely comforting, her brilliant mind certainly working on some sort of invention already as she stepped away from the wall and closer to him. This close her soft Ki was a soothing hum and Vegeta found the proximity to her oddly comfortable. Silence settled between them as the events of the past few minutes replayed in his mind, the sudden stillness making him uncomfortable, unfamiliar with the possible social protocols she might be accustomed to and expecting. Unsurprisingly she broke the silence first.

"I need access to more appropriate attire. The shift in temperature at night and towards the evenings,... I did not prepare accordingly"

Clothing. She had mentioned that topic of apparent displeasure the night before when she had interrupted him, once again dressed like a variety of flower. Taking in her flowing loose pants and delicate top, exposing a creamy shoulder and the swell of her breast, Vegeta found himself silently agreeing to her voiced request. If this woman, that was accustomed to living life in opulence and riches was anything like Vegeta remembered his mother to be, it was best to keep her _away_ from the bustling commerce of the city.

"I will have a tailor sent to you tomorrow"

She simply nodded, and he found himself mesmerized by the curve of her neck before she gifted him with another of those impossibly bright smiles that she had given him at the lab, and the lake. An act that made him simultaneously uncomfortable and unexplainably calm at the same time. A surveying glance over the all too familiar city reminded Vegeta of the late hour and he used this as all the motivation he needed to bid the alien female a restful night before lifting of the balcony. The whole ordeal had left him feeling exhausted, and he longed for the privacy of his own chambers, his strategic mind already puzzling out the new information and its possible implications for future endeavors. This was most certainly not how he had imagined this confrontation to go, a realization that made irritation and displeasure rise like bile in his throat. This woman was a wild card and despite knowing the consequences he continued to interact with her. Tonight had brought them unexpectedly close - he had to reassess.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading and reviewing!**_

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* marks a quote by Sun Tzu "The Art of War", it points out how important it is to truly know desires and intents of someone before making the decision to trust them and be their ally. (since many allegiances in history have turned sour)


	8. Scars and Souvenirs Part I

_This chapter is broken into two parts because it was simply getting too long. I am trying to have each chapter sit between 3k and 4k words so your experience as a reader is always uniform & you aren't ever left with the feeling of "man this was so short". So in order to achieve that i broke the chapter in two. Part II is already written and will be released on Monday (today is Friday ;D)._ The gravity suit mentioned here is heavily inspired by to works of James Waldie & Dava Newman from MIT & their gravity loading countermeasure skin-suit.  


* * *

 **Part I**

* * *

The expensive materials followed of her skin in a mesmerizing soft dance and Bulma found herself commissioning a pretty amount of dresses and kimono-like overcoats than she wouldn't have thought possible. Yes, she had arrived here with an extensive array of clothing and fashion at her disposal, but nothing could have prepared her for the magic this royal tailor seemed able to create out of sheering nothingness. Traditional Saiyan fashion was a combination of flowing toga style with Indian dresses and Bulma was in heaven, the fact that each design chosen was tailored specifically just to her, all her whims and wishes incorporated effortlessly while being spoiled by the touch of the softest fabrics she had ever felt. As Vegeta had promised the tailor arrived early in the morning, an extensive array of fabrics and accessories in tow, announcing with a gleam in his eye that he had been informed she liked flowy designs as well as layers. Heat had risen to her cheeks at the realization that the King had paid such close attention to her personal style outside of the professional business attire or lab coat she mostly wore.

As her measurements were being taken to adjust the vibrant fabric to her current height Bulma couldn't help but reflect - again - on the previous night. While the scientist had been prepared for repercussions in regards to her action in the laboratory that day, she had been unprepared for the fact that Vegeta would react in the manner he had. Thus far he had always countered with words, not physical actions - not counting their first meeting when he had crowded her against the IPS console - and the shear strength with which he had lifted her off her feet had caught Bulma off guard. She had dated strong men before, but the Saiyan King was beyond any level of measure she could have fathomed, the power brimming in the cells that composed his body made her wildest dreams pale in comparison, being touched by him had been like being electrocuted - in an oddly _pleasant_ way.

She had not planned on revealing anything to him, to let her professional mask slide that much, but when he had leaned _so close_ , close enough that she could taste his breath on her lips, she had seen it in his eyes. The pressure, the need to lead and perform, to put others first and endure the burdens of leadership that spawned the almost impenetrable barrier that created the worst loneliness in the world; she had seen it in his eyes, and a part of her had immediately, and without her permission, accepted him as a kindred spirit. On earth no matter who she had become acquainted with, nobody played in her league, not quite, and in the end, she had always held herself back knowing that in a twisted turn of events things could go sour and they would surely spell to the media like people in her life had done before. Not this man, not Vegeta. The secrets his dark eyes held more than rivaled her own, and Bulma had found herself drowning in eyes so dark she could have sworn celestial bodies could reside within their depth. So despite everything she knew, Bulma had found herself breaking her own rule; Never tell people more than they need to know. But she had, with startling ease she had told this strange alien man she understood how lonely he was because she was too. The emotions that flashed so briefly in his eyes after her brazen declaration had set a fire in her soul she had not experienced before.

Movement in her periphery startled her back to reality and she realized that the tailor was wrapping up his belongings, promising her with a heavy accent in Galactic Standard that he would have some things ready within the next few days. It dawned on her then that this man rarely spoke Galactic Standard, leaving her brilliant mind to arrive at the conclusion that he spoke the native tongue of the Saiyans on a daily basis more than anything, a language only those born to this race of warriors spoke; she was his first none-Saiyan client in a long time. Immediately she wondered if Vegeta had made an exception for her because of what had transpired between them the previous night, or to simply get her back to work as quickly as possible.

* * *

It was midday break by the time Bulma arrived at the food hall of the science wing and found Aika sitting at a table by herself, her smooth dark hair was flowing over her shoulder - which was not shaking with sobs - which Bulma took that as a good sign. She liked her assistant, a young woman with talent and knack for detail, but also a terribly sheltered girl and she felt responsible to provide at least the semblance of guidance for having tossed in into this strange alien world. Grabbing a meal for herself she slid into the seat across from Aika, it was now or never, time to address her concerns about Raditz.

"Aika, I'm so glad I ran into you, there is something I wanted to talk about with you"

The young woman seemed to instinctively know what Bulma wanted to discuss as her face became guarded, and Bulma had to force herself to press on with a strained smile. She was not going to tell Aika what she could or couldn't do, but she felt she at least needed to voice her concerns. Wasn't it important for humans to stick together while being hosted on an alien world? When she conveyed her worries about Raditz being a ladies man, that he perhaps might just be on the prowl for something new she was surprised that Aika shared her worries. Bulma was even more taken aback when the younger woman felt comfortable enough to openly share the happenings of the previous night she had spent with the Saiyan. The ease with which Aika shared that they had been taking a walk along the outer perimeter of the Palace, enjoying the view of the Capital, made the scientist realize just how guarded she had grown to be, the brunette was not worried about Bulma selling the secrets of her private life to the best-paying gossip -magazine and thus free to share and receive social feedback. Bulma suddenly envied her a little. Apparently Raditz had been smoother than a polished piece of marble, pointing out architectural feats in the city, boasted about his prowess in battle and important position at the royal court. Her young assistant admitted easily that she was impressed by his feats and crushing on the hunk of muscle, her cheeks blushing in a fashion that reminded Bulma of just how innocent she was before they got interrupted. As Aika continued Bulma learned that apparently, Raditz had his scouter tugged away in his armor and accidentally hailed the King, who had promptly called back, summoned him and interrupted their "date".

The thought of stoic, professional Vegeta having to listen in on Raditz trying to charm Aika, due to an accidental call, had Bulma on the verge of tears. She was bent over the lunch table laughing wholeheartedly at a situation that was every high-school student's worst nightmare. Her assistant ears were burning, but after a few seconds, she joined Bulma, the two of them sitting in the by now almost empty food hall.

"He talks big game for sure,.. his muscles are just _really_ nice" her whole face was red at the admission.

"They are! Have you touched him yet? They look so hard"

"Oh I bet he is hard _all over_ "

Aikas face was burning and the girly giggles that followed their short moment of indulgences of the male Saiyan anatomy carried them back to their respective workstations. The light air stayed with them for the remainder of the day and as Bulma worked tirelessly on wrapping up all drone designs and mathematical calculations for handoff, she pondered the question that just perhaps the universe had given her a small shot at making a friend.

* * *

The warm water from the shower was soothing and Bulma closed her eyes in bliss over the fact that tonight she had been able to return to _this_ luxurious room instead of her crammed cot-style dungeon. The shower system was the same as in the very first room she ever occupied during her stay on this planet, the water all but just disappearing into the floor, and Bulma promised herself that one of these days she'd take it apart to understand how this trickery worked.

After her shower, and dressing in attire more comfortable than her lab coat, Bulma found herself on her expansive Balcony, taking in the setting suns and the city to her feet. What a strange world Vegetasei was, with its hues of red and dual suns, it's strong gravity and blistering days followed by cool nights. Her eyes trailed to the contraption around her wrist, the material had adjusted to her body temperature, never feeling too cold or too hot, in fact, most of the day she had forgotten it was even there. It was her initial inspiration for the training equipment Vegeta requested - bracelets that could manipulate gravity. The only drawback to this idea was that she was fairly certain the King would not agree to wear anything around his wrists, as that seemed to denote status, she had observed the hand-and-wrist engulfing pieces Raditz and Nappa wore and concluded that it was not purely a statement of fashion but of rank. Vegeta's hands were likely gloved, and his wrists bare for a reason. Which had brought her to her next idea, a gravity room. A private chamber in which he could train to his heart's content while maintaining privacy from prying eyes. A chamber like this would take time, models and test runs, fails safes and trials. It had been made very clear that this was an urgent matter, so she needed an immediate solution that would allow her a few weeks to construct a training room in the meantime. A gravity suit. The idea had come to her after once again observing how what was worn underneath armor seemed to differ from Saiyan to Saiyan , Vegeta almost seeming to be the only one who wore a full suit on a daily basis - a perfect starting point to disguise his training while allowing him to improve even while conducting official business.

The suns were just dipping low on the horizon, a clear indicator that it was getting later in the evening, and Bulma knew that she could share her innovative ideas with his royal majesty at some point during the following day, but a strange pull inside of her beckoned her to send at least a servant, informing him of progress made and information needing to be discussed. How she loathed the fact that she, _Bulma Briefs_ , needed to request an audience! Something that had never truly happened to her in all her 29 years of life, it was usually the other way around. Huffing in exasperation and trying to keep her suddenly bubbling annoyance at bay, she opened the main door to her rooms and informed the guard stationed just a few feet down the imposing hall that she required a servant _pronto.  
_

* * *

He was already half asleep when the beeping of his scouter filtered into his mind and roused him back to full alertness, not bothering to turn his head and look Vegeta fumbled for the piece of technology in the dark. Squinting his eyes at the display, trying to discern, just who was hailing him at this unholy hour, he made out Raditz name and accepted the call. _This better be important._

It took his mind a second to understand just what he was hearing on the other end of the line, and it was most definitely not important enough to wake him, nor was it truly his business. Other than the fact that he had already explicitly forbade the long-haired fool from making advancements towards the human female. In a fit of annoyance over being called by accident and thus finding out that his direct orders were being disobeyed he ended the connection only to immediately call right back, his tail thumping in annoyance under the sheets. To his credit it took his right-hand man only a split second to answer his call, his tone professional and to the point, Vegeta swallowed the urge to rain hell upon him over the communication line and instead summoned Raditz to his chambers immediately. Effectively cutting off whatever desperate attempt he had been making at getting laid.

Wrestling himself out of bed took admittedly longer than he would have thought, opting for a red tunic and loose pants as he patted barefoot into this sitting room. It had been a very long time since Vegeta had worn anything even remotely resembling civilian clothes or traditional Saiyan garments - battle suit aside - and the soft airy material felt almost foreign on his skin. Raditz was already waiting for him and Vegeta was not sure if it was the years of service under Frieza or if the other man truly did such a poor job at concealing his emotions, but, it was obvious that he was miffed about being interrupted. His bare hands suddenly itchy with the need to wipe the look of his subordinates face. _Focus on your breathing, don't lose focus._

"I thought I had made it clear, no messing around with the humans" his voice was an exhausted huff more than anything and he hated himself for not being able to muster more, it was simply too late.

"I didn't.. I mean I wasn't -"

Raditz stopped himself when Vegeta leveled him with an annoyed glare. " No fucking lying either, Raditz!"

The two of them sunk on respective sofas with a huff, both knowing the valid points of the other. Vegeta really shouldn't have given a fuck about who Raditz next target was, but things with the humans had not settled into a routine yet, the production of capsule on site had also not begun yet. It was best to tread carefully, which had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the strange relationship that was beginning to develop between him and the woman. Never before had he crossed the lines like this with a representative of another species, another _ally_. Offers had been plentiful, but his interest had never been stirred, it was dangerous to mix such important business with his own pleasure, a rule he had followed stringently, that is until she came along. And now the edges of professional and personal blurred into a steaming heap of trouble he could not muster the strength to distance himself from.

Perhaps the evening would have gone differently had Raditz not used that precise moment to point out the painfully obvious, as always driven by the familiarity between them to cross lines nobody else dared to cross.

"Just 'cause you're cock-blocking yourself doesn't mean you should do it to me Zaluu"

The pet-name Nappa had given him as a mere cub, combined with the stinging truth spurred tired muscles into action. Before Raditz knew what hit him Vegeta had propelled himself off the sofa, launching over the small table that separated them and landed a devastating right hook on the face of his closest comrade. Never one to back down either Raditz threw the smaller man off him, going after him with snarling veracity as his hands balled into tight fists. The all-out fist-fight that ensued rivaled some of their wildest bar fights during their teenage years, little mind was paid to the priceless artifacts that met their untimely end as the two stumbled and rolled through the sitting room. Vegeta had Ki in spades and technique so precise and clean that it would make any Saiyan with half a brain jealous, but this wasn't a Ki fight, only bare hands and exposed teeth and Raditz was a good bit taller than the man that was his sovereign. Not that it truly gave him a chance at winning, but it delayed his defeat considerably. They trained in such close proximity that either one was more than familiar with the techniques of the other.

In the end, he was pinned by a Vegeta snarling furiously, looking as if he was about to transform into the mighty Ozaru without the aid of a moon - if that were even possible - and Raditz lifted his hands in surrender. Vegeta was off him and on his way back to his sleeping chamber by the time Raditz had made it back to his feet, flipping one of the less damaged sofas over and falling right on it. _Too_ exhausted to go and sleep anywhere else tonight.

Vegeta himself thanked all the gods of Vegetasei that his bedroom was still equipped with a manual door that required opening and closing, it made the act of slamming it shut behind himself to wall off Raditz and his loud mouth - which was relentlessly telling him again that as a King he could do as he pleased with whomever he wanted - all the more _satisfying._

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Part II will be live on Monday & things between Bulma and Vegeta will most certainly heat up. Competition is also on the horizon ;) Stay tuned!

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving feedback!


	9. Scars and Souvenirs Part II

Part II

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By the next morning his sour mood had lessened considerably, perhaps the impromptu fight with Raditz had done wonders to release some of the frustration he had been bottling up. The positive news on the last mission certainly helped as well. The control center was buzzing with excitement and possibilities and Vegeta found himself only mildly annoyed for having to listen to a dry progress report. Their attempt to hack into the mainframe of the Colds central control had been successful, the asset had followed orders and was no longer a loose end, and it seemed like the Colds were none the wiser. The only thing left to do now was to work through the impressive amount of data and communications that were being received every day, while also establishing a team to comb through the back-logs posing as an additional treasure mine of information.

Technicians and advisers alike all seemed hopeful that they had gained an important advantage in this war, and even Nappa next to him, who preferred hand to hand combat over technological warfare, was pleased with the possibilities. It would be a tiresome task to establish a team of trusted workers to handle such delicate information but Vegeta knew that it would be well worth the headache. He instructed a few advisers and technicians to compose a master-list of potential candidates before he departed with Nappa. It would be a lot easier to choose from a pre-selected bunch, given that today was also the day of Evaluations. A day that marked the completion of training for new soldiers in his army, and the honoring of those that had undergone trials to level up in the rank that had been assigned to them at birth. Nappa was always present at such events given his station, and it was one of the few happenings when he pressured Vegeta to be in attendance as well since it would be good for the troops and their morale. Knowing that the much older man was right from the first-hand experience he sacrificed an entire afternoon once every sun cycle for this specific day.

Truly official business like this was never his forte, mainly because he disliked the cape he had to wear, the damn thing somehow always got in the way, and while his blue flight-suit brimmed with the color of his royalty he much preferred the dark grey material.

"...you need to stay away from her" startling out of his own thoughts he only caught the end of Nappa's words, but he needn't ask who it was about. There was only one _her_ his General was feeling so strongly about. The blue haired siren that had come from earth.

"I know Nappa"

"I know 'yer do, that's not why I keep telling you"

Vegeta knew why Nappa kept telling him because the man knew him like a son, and in his own way was trying to shield him from the sort of pain that came with allowing the wrong person in. Nappa was familiar with becoming.. _fascinated_ .. by a woman that wasn't for him, that had to be ignored because protocol and duty came first, more important than personal afflictions of the flesh or heart; and over the years Vegeta had watched how it tore him apart, slowly bit by bit till the possibility of what could have been left him clinging to his duty in a desperate attempt for sanity.

"I know the rules. I will follow them Nappa" _A Saiyan female. A Saiyan cub._

* * *

The heat was blistering and Vegeta felt his suit soaking through underneath his heavy armor, his only relief was that during the ceremony of training completion it was Nappa who had to do all the work, the talking, the congratulating, the instructing. All he himself had to do was sit regally and remain stoic, a feat he had mastered a long time ago no matter what the conditions around him maybe be. The number of new graduates and thus Soldiers were rising each year since his ascension and as he watched the impressive number of young men and women swearing their life to his crown, he couldn't help but feel a small tingle of pride at the age of undoubted prosperity they were entering after years of hardship had come to finally pass.

As the suns were starting to dip low in the sky, replacing scorching heat with a soft breeze, it was time for the evaluations, already established soldiers had gone through many moon cycles of bone breaking trials with the hopes of attaining a higher rank than the one they currently held or had been assigned to at birth. This was where he came in, acknowledging the few select individuals that had achieved first class and elite statuses, individuals he would be working with a lot more closely than the regular soldier. It was still Nappa's turn to introduced each new addition, but Vegeta finally had a chance to stretch his legs, standing proud and tall, cape billowing behind him in the setting suns. Each new higher ranking soldier was acknowledged with the inclination of his chin in a small nod, while many repeated their oaths of unwavering loyalty to his crown and person.

Things were going smoothly and a distant part of him even entertained the idea that perhaps he could have a timely dinner when Nappa introduced her. Azoya, she was unusually young for her success, a few suns cycles his junior, just having achieved her elite status and as she bowed her dark smooth hair danced in a shiny waterfall around her ribs. When she repeated the oath, like all soldiers before her, she all but purred his name in a bedroom voice so low and sensual that he observed from his periphery how Nappa's ears turned red. Azoya's eyes remained trained on him, dark but with a golden hue to them, a _rare_ trait in Saiyans indeed. Vegeta forced himself to give a curt nod when she reached out a hand, placing it on his crossed forearms,

"I will see you at selections, your _majesty_ "

Nappa's strong hand removed her feminine one from his being before Vegeta had a chance to shake her off. The general instructing her firmly that it was inappropriate to touch a royal in such a manner, while Vegeta's stomach twisted in dread. Selections were the act of the council presenting hand-picked, promising and strong females from which he could select one as his Queen, or simply the mother of his heir. Not that either option truly appealed to him, and he had hoped to quell the urgency of the old geezers with the recent success of the Cold mission. His own words to his General just a few hours earlier came to mind, _he knew the rules and he would follow them._ Apparently, females like Azoya were a what came with those rules.

The rest of the evaluations flitted by in a blur and Vegeta found himself once again marching down the hallways of his palace with Nappa by his side. It was time to see if the master-list of potential techs had made headway, and then to kick the ass of his council for thinking they could assemble selections _behind_ his back! While the old men most certainly had experience in life and politics over him, he was not going to be forced or coerced into sleeping or mating with anyone that was not of his own personal, _private_ , choosing.

Nappa berating him all the while how, while certainly bold and brazen, a female like Azoya wasn't a bad choice. How strength, determination and the willingness to work where good traits to pass on, and Vegeta found himself on the verge of a tantrum like he had not thrown it in years. The older man's savings grace, or even perhaps his own, was the arrival of a servant girl just as he was about to enter the central command wing. The young Vestarian bowed low and Vegeta knew who had sent her before she even spoke a word. _Bulma._ Apparently, the clever earthling had made progress in her task of designing him training equipment and needed his decision and ultimate approval before moving forward.

He was too busy now, the tasks at hand to pressing to postpone to a later time, which seemed to greatly please Nappa, and the stubborn boy he had once been reared his head, recalling the words of Raditz just the night prior, he was the King, couldn't he see whoever he damn well pleased?!

"Inform her, that perhaps after my duties I will find time"

The girl hurried off and down the hall, and Nappa's expression of a hopelessly overwhelmed and annoyed father made the headache he was about to immerse himself into almost worthwhile. The doors swooshed open before the two Saiyans and as he stepped over the threshold Vegeta decided that for right now he would be the King his people needed him to be, later he feasibly may just become Vegeta and sate his curiosity for what the oddly colored human had designed.

* * *

It was the sound of the door swooshing shut behind him that startled Bulma out of her only reason she was still awake was the room service she had discovered after the servant girl had returned to her, head bowed, with news that the King had received her message but was busy conducting business. She had felt her temper boiling - at Vegeta - and the young female, who had by mistakenly believed it to be directed towards her, had offered to bring her wine and cuisine while she waited. Those two things, the wine especially, had indeed lightened her mood considerably. Particularly once she had sat down and considered the use of such a service, she was no longer required to make the journey to the food hall in the science wing to eat rather mediocre food when she could order delicacies with all but the snap of a finger.

Turning on her chair which was situated with a table close to the open balcony doors she regarded Vegeta for a short moment. He stood tall and proud, his facial expression expectant, while a cape as red as blood licked the back of his calves. _Official business indeed_. For a moment she considered teasing him, but then refrained remembering how curt and to the point, he had been with business of this nature last time. Being her mother's daughter she offered him a glass of the wine she was currently sampling and to her great surprise, he accepted her offering with a curt nod, drowning the contents of the glass in a single swig.

" _Tha_ t kind of day, huh?" he tone was light, conveying her own familiarity with the situation.

His eyebrows rose for a short moment before he seemed to understand the meaning behind her words, she had translated an earth saying quite literally, and he chuckled, the corners of his lips turning in amusement, "Woman, you have not the slightest clue".

Accepting the empty glass from his gloved hand their fingers brushed and Bulma's heart started pounding frantically in her chest. _Get a grip Bulma!_ Taking a big sip of liquid courage from her own glass she set them down and decided to dive head first into territory she was familiar and comfortable with. Explaining in great detail the ideas she had for his training equipment, making sure to list all positive and negatives as well as the time and materials required to fashion whatever option he chose for himself. She wanted to slap herself silly when the young girl inside of her all but melted at the way he once again _listened_ to her, attention unwavering, interest clear on his face.

"The suit. After that I require you to start construction on this Gravitation Chamber right away." She simply nodded. "How soon can I expect results?"

"We can do the measurements for the suit right now, it will allow me to start first thing tomorrow"

Bulma was already hurrying off to find a measuring tape that she had brought on a whim, now thanking Kami for her foresight, not even waiting to hear the King's response to her offer. When she returned Vegeta was standing stiff and unmoving in the same spot, arms crossed tightly offer his chest as he regarded her with a guarded gaze. _Surely he wasn't shy?!_

"I can use one of your regular suits if provided, I just need to take a few measurements of your Torso to calibrate things in order to not damage your spin and specifically only target muscles."

He remained unmoving, eyes boring into hers in a way so intense it made Bulma want to squirm. What was with the sudden tension? He had been naked when she had interrupted him while taking a bath, albeit his entire body had been concealed under the moving and bubbling water, and he had not seemed to particularly care. She was just about to offer to turn around when he clicked his teeth in was sounded suspiciously like anger instead of annoyance and started to unclasp his cape from the wide shoulder pads. The material pooled down his back and Bulma almost had to do a double take when he caught it with his tail, bringing it up to his hands and folding it before stepping past her and depositing it on her bed. Pristine white gloves followed, accompanied by the large chest piece of his armor, the skirt pauldrons stayed in place and his tail resumed its spot around his trim waist. When his dark bare hands lifted the hem of his skin-tight top, exposing abdominals so chiseled the greeks would have been jealous, her stomach clenched just a little _too low._

His shoulders were wide, combined with his height adding to his powerful aura and Bulma couldn't help giving his now exposed torso a once-over. He was fit, more than fit, tan skin spanning over corded and defined muscles, a mesmerizing rising and falling of valleys and ridges that spoke of discipline and sweat. Heat was rising in her neck and cheeks, perhaps it had been a bad idea to drown the wine before doing this, she had never seen a man this built, this fit. On his pectoral, right above his heart, was the same symbol that adorned the armor of every Saiyan, it was as if someone had branded it into his skin. The scars that littered his body made it clear that this man had seen battle, but the emblem on his skin, marking him as royalty no doubt, had weathered the storm of time and war. Bulma was trying her hardest to keep her professional mask in place when she stepped closer to him, trying several times to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat, as she raised the measuring tape to his chest.

His skin was scorching and the scientist noted that for human standards he was likely running a high fever, yet Vegeta seemed to be perfectly fine. Darting a glance up at his face she found dark eyes already watching her closely, alternating between the work her nimble fingers were doing and her own face. More heat crawled up her spine and she was almost thankful when she had to turn and write down the measures she had just taken of his front, marking where gravitational strain would have the greatest impact and use. While doing so she forced herself to take a deep breath and get a grip on her composure, Bulma Briefs did not get flustered just because a half-naked intergalactic emperor stood in her room, so close to her bed. When she turned around determination shone in her eyes. _She would not be affected._

Trying to step around him, so she could measure his back and he could put his clothes back on, she was surprised when he matched her step, effectively preventing her from stepping behind him. Her brows crinkled in confusion.

"I need to measure your back too. It will only take a second"

"You have my front, just adjust accordingly I'm sure you are smart enough woman" his eyebrows had drawn together even more and his tone had a defensive quality she had not experienced before.

"Don't be shy now, it's just little ol' me, nothing to be scared of" the words were meant to be teasing, lightening the mood between them, instead they seemed to spark a challenge within Vegeta and the emotions that flittered across his dark eyes almost made her dizzy.

The gaze he leveled her with was ice cold and brutal, full of calculation and malice as he leaned down towards her, "One word, and I mean _one single word_ woman and I will eradicate humanity". Never before had words chilled her to the bone like this, she did not even get a chance to numbly nod her agreement before the King turned around and she _understood_.

Bulma played the reflexive gasp that threatened to slip past her lips off as a cough, her fingers clinging to the measuring tape in a desperate attempt to ground her to reality. Forcing a shaky exhale she lifted trembling fingers, pressing the tape to his skin unseeing of the numbers it marked. She had seen the arms and legs of Nappa and Co. a few scars here and there, but mostly light, even Vegeta's front paled in comparison to this. She had assumed a Saiyans skin was hard, if not impossible to scar, but the criss-cross patterns that drew over his back in deep ugly welts told a very different story. Whatever had happened here had happened over the course of many years, based on their color she also assumed it happened when he was still fairly young; but what absolutely broke her heart was how suddenly the scaring stopped around his neck. As if the area had been protected, as if he had been _collared_.

Bile rose in her throat as her stomach turned and she had to avert her eyes - the neck high suits even on sweltering days suddenly made sense - involuntarily catching a glimpse of the tip of his tail. It was wrapped around his waist, twitching against its base on his lower back and Bulma realized that it was an involuntary tic likely to deal with how uncomfortable he felt. His words also made her wonder just who even knew about this, likely not many, this was terrifying and sad, but a privilege nonetheless. So Bulma did the only thing she could think of, she talked, she talked about all the technical details that went into making these gadgets, talked about color choice and even went as far chattering about when ideas most often hit her. In the shower. Or drinking wine.

When she turned around to jot down the measurements she had just taken Bulma made sure to take her time. Time for herself to compose herself and get a grip on her facial expression, and time for Vegeta to get dressed and bury the sliver of vulnerability she had just witnessed. Only, she must not have been very good at masking her feelings for when she turned back around to face the flame-haired Saiyan Vegeta took one look at her and snarled. Reversing their spots and crowding her against the bed within the blink of an eye, fury blazing in his dark gaze in a manner she had not seen before,

"Fuck you and your pitty woman!"

With that, he was gone, and Bulma was left trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Vegeta was more than lonely, he was isolated by a terrible burden he seemed to carry alone. Red flags should have been rising in her head but instead, Bulma found herself with the overwhelming urge to ease the burden, to understand what happened. Rolling further onto her bed she curled up in a ball and did something very uncharacteristic, she cried. When had her life suddenly become so complicated, more importantly when had her emotions suddenly hijacked everything like this!? She had never crossed the line betwen professional and personal but found herself doing so here on almost a daily basis. She had always thought of herself as a strong and independent woman, who was she becoming? Why was she growing so emotionally involved with a stranger!?

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Things are heating up and BxV interactions will become more and more dominating as the story goes on. I just wanted to take the time to establish their characters in this different timeline and world before diving in fully - so thank you for your patience with me so far :D

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Thank you for reading :D Please consider leaving feedback!


	10. Double Trouble

Raditz shifted his weight casually, the overall send-off was taking too long in his opinion, but, many of the soldiers here today were new members of this army, having joined their ranks just a week prior. For many, it would be the first life-or-death mission on a far-off planet against the Cold empire. Whatever hell Vegeta had unleashed on his subordinates in the tech room had done wonders, because they uncovered the first useful information within a few hours and now, a little over a week later, the King was sending of a decently sized troop to wreak havoc on a trade hub that was a vital component in the universe still ruled by the Colds. Most of the new additions were visibly itching for a good fight, to test their skills and answer the drum of battle that flowed in the veins of every Saiyan. Whoever would not return had not been worthy to join their ranks of warriors in the first place and should have chosen from one of the civilian positions instead - this was the only chance newcomers got to prove themselves. He himself would not ship out, his time here to valuable, greater mission still ahead of him, not to mention that it was below is status to be tasked with basically throwing a tantrum on a shithole to piss of King Cold and his remaining spawn.

Vegeta himself hovered in the air, addressing the rows of warriors within the docking bay that were standing ready by their respective pods. The large ceiling window soaking them all in the light of their suns, making Raditz grateful once again that this room was climate controlled. Having to be a standing entourage of morale and support would have been decidedly more excruciating outside, risking a glance over his shoulders at a few of the council members , he concluded that perhaps it could have been an effective way to get rid of some of those old fossils, some of them looked like they were on their merry way out already anyway. Shrugging halfheartedly the long-haired Saiyan decided to run the idea by Vegeta later, the younger men was looking for a way to replace the outdated council with some fresh minds.

Come to think of it, Raditz himself liked replacements, especially when it came to woman. He couldn't help the upward curl of his mouth as he thought of the young woman he had charmed into his bed - technically against the wall first, and then his bed, _but technicalities_ \- at the party after evaluations. New entries into the army where always celebrated with great enthusiasm, the parties following evaluations were always the biggest, every Saiyan and their family in attendance with food and booze to fuel a wild night of open celebration. After being cock-blocked by his royal highness Raditz had dove head first into the wild night, trying to swallow the bitter pill of being denied Aika by getting drunk and then getting off. His plan had worked. Partially. The young newling had been easy to empress on pretty to boot, the night between his sheets wild and sweaty, the girl eager and enthusiastic just what the doctor had ordered. That was until Aika had shown up. At his door. In the morning. As he was ushering out his hookup.

His initial attempt at just closing the door behind him and leaving the young woman to throw her tantrum of hurt out in the hallway worked all but two seconds, when he had realized that the nameless girl with great oral skills could very easily kill Aika should she mouth off to her, which would result in one hell of a beating from Vegeta - if he was lucky. So Raditz, had all but forced the door back home and yanked a furiously screaming and scratching - _kinda hot, he could work with that_ \- Aika back into his room. Which had been his second strike. Dragging the girl you had been wanting to bang into a room in which you had just banged the consolation prize was a bad idea, especially when said screaming girl was already angry at you. Strike three had been realizing that his fingers, which were gripping Aikas shoulders, were still sticky from last night's activities, so Raditz honed and hardened by battle and war had done the only thing he could think of. He had shoved her back out and prayed to all the Gods of Vegetasei that the problem would resolve itself, maybe the guards could deal with it. Which had lead to him inform a servant via scouter to regulate a noise disturbance outside of his room. What good were servants if one could not make them clean up one's post- hook-up mess?

The servant must have done a good job because Raditz never heard about any drama and Vegeta remained his usual wound too tight self. Shifting his weight back to the other foot he tuned in to see where in his address Vegeta was, while he always changed things, coming up with the words on the fly, Raditz had a good handle on just how close Vegeta was too the end. The man hated speeches anyway. The time under Frieza had brought them close, Raditz often thought of Vegeta as a brother, and there had been a very wild time in their late teens when their high widow's peaks had even allowed them to pose as brothers. Raditz had learned by accident that some chicks and their friends apparently liked the idea and had promptly persuaded Vegeta with lots of liquor on the promise of sex. The scheme had worked like a charm, with the long-haired Saiyan doing most of the talking and Vegeta being his quiet grumpy self. The more grueling the missions under Frieza became the wilder they partied at the refueling dumps of the universe. That wild teenage life had ended abruptly when the Lizard Lord had sent them on a purge to a nearly solidly frozen world and Vegeta had almost died. Raditz could still remember the last night of their mission when he had curled around a blue-lipped and pale Vegeta, realizing that if his sovereign died so would _their race._ When they came back the Prince had thrown himself into his training with new determination, rising out of the fog that had been depression and helplessness disguised under the wild, loud and drunk 'I-don't-care' attitudes.

Since defeating Frieza Vegeta had put duty first while Raditz had continued to party, at least _someone_ had to have some fun around here, but perhaps it would do him good to dial it down a few notches. Maybe he should even take the shot and seek Aika out again, see if he could mend things with the petite earthling. Chancing a glance up at Vegeta, who was wrapping up his call for war and battle, he decided that maybe the blue haired female would be good for him too. Humans seemed to be surrounded by genuine warmth that could be worth exploring, maybe even soothe some of that short and explosive temper his King had going for him lately - _or maybe the guy just needed to get laid._

Raditz turned, falling into step with Vegeta, who had taken one look at him upon landing back on solid ground, and told him to get his mind out of the gutter, they marched back to the shuttle and a day filled with training and diplomacy.

* * *

Bulma was fuming, it had been an entire week since she had seen Vegeta, after the discovery of his back and catching a glimpse into his painful past, the jerk was ignoring her. He had sent Nappa to pick up the first finished prototype for the suit, which she had finished in record time, and since not bothered to head her requests for an audience. She needed to see him in order to get the readout of the suit! How was she supposed to improve upon the design if she could not see what was happening, what was improving, what wasn't. The entire situation was downright maddening and between beginning finalization of blueprints for the Gravity Room and checking in with her co-workers in regards to the Planetary shield system she wanted to scream at Vegeta for ignoring her and hindering her process. That's' all these emotions were, him hindering her genius mind from progressing on a new invention. Bulma made was able to make herself believe this excuse for an entire week. Then she caved and was honest with herself.

Vegeta had been open and vulnerable with her when he had allowed her to see his bare back, and she found herself desperately wanting to share that trust. He had given her a piece of leverage over him, no doubt that is how he saw it, and she wanted to return the favor to level the playing field. Maybe even get this off her chest, be open and free and not give a damn for the first time in her life, because this was a planet that appeared to have no gossip magazines and hounding paparazzi's, and Vegeta wasn't a man to talk and slander. The only problem was that so far he had always come to see her, Bulma had no idea about his routine or the places and rooms he frequented within the palace. Actually, that was not correct, she did know one place he went, a place she had already been to as well.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, but once Bulma Briefs had set her mind on something she was going to finish it. Her legs felt shaky when the big doors were pushed open for her and she made the short trip down the hallway to the familiar door. Straightening her spine and forcing her chin a little higher she stepped through. The scene before her almost an exact xerox of the one from a view weeks prior, the Saiyan King submerged in warm swirling water, the city brimming with life behind him, only this time she had dressed for the occasion. Vegeta audibly groaned when he spotted her, mumbling something about his guard's being worthless and his need for privacy. Bulma had been prepared for this moment, slipping off her robe she silently hoped that her female charms would work on the Saiyan. Her brave display stunning him into momentary silence, before he averted his eyes and Bulma was taken aback by the slightly red hue to his cheeks. He was a little shy after all.

Dressed in only a tiny black bandeau bikini the scientist carefully dipped a toe into the water, it's temperature divine, she understood how someone even as rough around the edges as Vegeta could appreciate this pool in the rock. Submerging herself to the collarbones in the soothing liquid Bulma forced herself to make eye contact with him, coming to sit on a ledge that seemed to have been carved into the stone itself, as close to him as she dared, dark eyes drinking her in, suspicion dancing in their depth.

"Where I come from I am a very sought after woman, men want to be with me, re-"

Vegeta snorted, rubbing his eyes with exhausted exasperation, and Bulma felt her temper bubbling at his rude interruption. She pressed on. Telling him how she had breezed through academics programs, invented and improved left and right while winning awards and balancing a life with her fiance. She told Vegeta about the hurdles she had to jump and how deeply it often hurt her to be cast aside due to her gender, or her looks. In the end, she told him how the world had rained down on her with 'i-told-you-so's' when it had become public that the man that had been supposed to be her husband cheated on her, repeatedly. Because a woman could never have it all if she was smart and pretty she was by default unable to keep a man.

"... it's so restricting to be perceived as only being able to have a limited number of characteristics and attributes. If you have smart and pretty, you must be bad in bed - and the world believes it!" Her rant had gotten heated and she was sure her cheeks were flushed, the hot water wasn't helping, or the intensity with which Vegeta regarded her. Bulma truly hoped he had understood what she had meant to accomplish here - that she had shared one of her biggest burdens with him - like he had with her.

"Are you?" his tone was serious, his eyes now questioning, and it took Bulma a moment to understand what he had asked. _Was she bad in bed._

"How dare you! I am not! I am amazing -thank you ve-" she didn't get any further in her angry outburst because Vegeta did the last thing she would have ever expected him to do; he laughed. _He was joking with her._ His head fell in his neck, exposing his strong jaw and neck. His lips curled in a way that gave Bulma the sudden urge to kiss them. Her stomach clenched and her heart raced, he was beautiful. The sound of his laughter was almost freeing, starting deep in his chest and she could have sworn she could feel the vibrations of it in the water. A sound that stood in stark contrast with the force of nature this man was. In a ditch attempt to save her pride Bulma splashed him with water, crossing her arms over her chest and mock pouting, trying to compose herself, calm her racing heart and the heat that was creeping up her neck again. Silence settled between them comfortably and she let a few minutes pass before working up the nerve to ask the one question that had been burning in her mind since the week prior. The current burning question if he was naked underneath the swirling water aside.

"What happened to your back?" her voice was gentle, almost a whisper.

Vegeta regarded her out of the corner of his eye, his head was still in his neck but he was simply lounging now. "It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago when I was still a child and a young man."

 _When he was still a young man? How old did Saiyans get!? How did they age!? Surely he was not Master Roshi's age!?_

"A young man? ..A..are you.. I mean...I thought, oh Kami! How old are you? I thoug- … why are you laughing!?"

This time his laughter was more of a persistent chuckle, her obvious horror that perhaps she had come on to an old man most likely clearly visible on her face, when he had composed himself again he looked at her once more, head slightly angled, eyes deep, unblinking and contemplative. Bulma had the feeling that he was searching for something that laid outside of the realm of what was visible to the normal eye.

"I am still a young man. Not much older than you I believe, _Bulma"_ the accentuation of her name was accompanied by his tail splashing her with water, returning the playful gesture from a few minutes prior. His face oddly relaxed, the crease in his brows gone, taking years off him, and suddenly Bulma was able to see, that yes, he could not be much older than her, a few years perhaps. Her heart hammering against her ribcage she decided to take advantage of his apparent good mood, so she pushed one more time.

"This war you are fighting. Is it born out of revenge?"

"Partially" His tone was clipped. This topic was over. _The Colds and his back somehow tied together._

Bulma scooted closer, shifting gears altogether as the air between them positively hummed with something akin to electricity "Can I touch your tail?"

That seemed to surprise him as he straightened and turned towards her, hesitancy flashing in his eyes when the wet tip of the soaked appendage broke the surface of the water, brushing her wrist in the progress. Following the direction of hair growth with a single finger she watched in fascination as it twitched slightly and then retreated back under the protective blanket of the water. Bulma had noticed before that it sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own, she recalled the night she had met him by the lake and how it had swayed behind him, perhaps that was the reason why all Saiyans seemed to keep it wrapped neatly around their waist. When she looked up to find his eyes again she was surprised to how close they had come over the course of the conversation, if she leaned forward just a bit she would likely be able to kiss him. _Did she want to?_ His shoulders had broken the surface of the water when he had straightened, and Bulma couldn't help but notice how they seemed to be sculpted out of marble, her finger itching to reach out and touch him.

The hammering of her heart and the tightness in her throat eased with a cold chill when the King leaned back, his eyes focused on anything but her, scooting away and stating that it was time to retire to their respective rooms. The sudden disappointment weighing heavy in her stomach was unexpected and she forced herself to be polite, turning to give him privacy as he rose out of the water to dry and dress. The pants he wore when she turned around were loose confirming Bulmas firm believe that there was more to this man than just a battle-hardened warrior King. Making sure her rope was securely tied Bulma bid him good night, the familiar mood from a few minutes earlier had settled between them again, and she was almost out the door when he spoke,

"I will see you in the Lab for the suit. That is why you were here after all" his voice was stern, perhaps even questioning, but in his eyes she could clearly distinguish the test she had to pass. She shrugged casually throwing him a quick wink before using his own words against him.

"Partially".

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The next morning came early, Vegeta rose as the first of two suns peaked over the mountain edges tinging the world in red. His encounter with the blue-haired woman the previous night had left him baffled and perhaps angry at himself. As she had shared with him, Vegeta had found his respect for her growing. She knew struggle, albeit very different from his own, she had endured the struggles of her homeworld, bore the weight with pride and determination, always pressing forward. Those were qualities Vegeta himself could most certainly understand and value, he also understood the cost at which they came. For the briefest of moments he allowed himself the foolish notion to wonder what it might be like to have a relationship with such a woman, but as quick as the possibilities entered his mind he dismissed them.

The blue haired spitfire was too proud and too independent to play a secondary role in his life - the only role she could ever play in this foolish notion he allowed to continue. He was bound by his duty to his people. His private wishes and relationships could not be considered first, the primary woman in his life needed to be Saiyan, whoever he chose in private would never be more than a personal courtesan, and after what he had gained more insight to the woman's mind yesterday he understood that Bulma Briefs needed freedom more than anything else. Perhaps they both did. But Vegeta also remembered his days as a young boy in the bowls of Frieza's ship, fantasizing about the day he would get to pick a Saiyan female that would be strong and skilled in the art of fighting and be devoted to him and their people. The day he had dreamed about as a mere child was near and he needed to accept the task ahead of him.

Running through his usual morning routine he was surprised when neither Nappa nor Raditz awaited him on his personal training grounds. Instead, he was greeted by Azoya, her body devoid of armor, hair pulled back to accentuate high cheekbones, Vegeta gave her body clad in the dark colored suit, signifying her elite status, a short once over. _She was more slender than the average Saiyan female._ The King came to a stop a few feet from here, crossing his arms decisively over her chest and raising an expecting eyebrow. This had not been scheduled and he was not going to ask what was going on like a damn fool. Azoya inclined her head in greeting, asking him to consider her for a morning spa, no ki attacks, just fists, technique, and strength. _A challenge._

His armor hit the dry red earth instead of giving her a verbal answer. Time to see if she had earned the rank she now so brazenly used to challenge him on his own grounds. Vegeta was the first to move, to throw a punch, and, to get blocked. _She was slender for a Saiyan_. She was fast, _like him_. Her technique well defined and fluid with very little flaws - his Oozaru roared at the possibility of having found another worthy sparring partner. As time passed her accuracy only slightly diminished, her movements staying fluid and Vegeta found himself pulling no punches. Nappa and Raditz were great sparring partners, but both of them were tall and wide, while still quick neither of them were as nimble as himself, or the female dodging his attacks. As they rose into the air, Vegeta finally found her weakness, she based too much on a fight taking place on solid ground, too focused on her footwork, and he exploited this flaw in her technique for all it was worth. She tried to trick him to the ground a few times, and had he been a man less experienced in battle and war her might have fallen for it, but in the end, he used her own trick against her, reversing their positions in the last possible second and pinning her against the ground.

The impact was hard. Vegeta felt the air leave her lungs for a short moment and heard the impact of her head on the dry dusty earth. Both of them were soaked in sweat and he adjusted his grip to keep her on the ground with his hand around her throat, wiping sweat from his brow with the other. Azoya lifted her hands, surrendering to him as she panted for air, dark hair a mess on the red ground below both of them. Her eyes sparkled with mirth in an almost dangerous way, and then her tail thumped one of his thighs, he was still on top and astride her, before playfully curling against his own tail in mock provocation. The touches too short and soft to be taken as a real challenge, and high on the adrenaline of a good fight Vegeta was impelled to lean closer, curling his lips back to expose sharp canines while growling in a manner that signified anything but actual anger. Azoyas mouth curled at the corner betraying a soft smile and Vegeta found the tension in his body easing, it had been a very long time since he had played so freely with his strength.

As the soft breeze of the morning changed direction Vegeta caught an unexpected smell, the soft aroma of pheromones coming unmistakably from the young woman beneath him. His brain dimly recognized that she was aroused, before stuttering to a complete stop, his biology taking over before he could help himself. Without conscious effort Vegeta was leaning even closer, taking a deep inhale, eyes remaining focused on the golden specks in Azoyas almond shaped pool that danced in the sunlight. To his right someone cleared their throat and Vegeta's head whipped around with lightning speed; Nappa. _How had he not sensed him coming!? He had let his guard down!_ The flame-haired Saiyan was off the ground and off the young female before anyone could blink again, stalking passed his General while pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mumbling a few choice words about having a busy day Vegeta stalked down the halls, belatedly realizing he had left his armor behind, well, fuck his armor! As his pace increased he told himself over and over again that he was _not_ running away, or making an absolute mess out of his life.

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 _Thank you for reading & the numerous amounts of feedback on the last chapter! You all made my week!_


	11. Drawing Lines

**I know it has been** way too long **. I apologize for the long wait. Maybe this makes up for it? ;)**

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Nappa leaned further back into his seat, he was a man who had seen too much war and battle to be confined to these stuffy counseling rooms, enduring political happenings with a stoic expression and being an ever-present shadow for a King that had long since become able to rule by himself without his counsel. He would be the first to admit that Vegeta had grown from a bratty and spoiled princeling into a violent savior fueled by desperation and hopelessness, and finally, into the King his people had always needed him to be. It was moments like these when his body was forced to be still and stationary when his mind could wander, that he couldn't help but think how proud Aubera would have been of her son. The Saiyan woman who had given his sovereign life and the unmatched capacity to adapt to any situation - and thrive.

Nappa usually did his best to keep the reminiscing moments involving this particular woman to a minimum, it always tore at a festering wound that would never fully heal. He remembered like it had been yesterday the day he had met Aubera, they had both been mere children and he had watched her grow up with him, climb the ranks in the army of the kingdom alongside him and catch the eye of the young King. Bound by rank and duty he had watched her life with another man, bare a son that should have been his and suffer endlessly at the hands of a leader that became obsessed with power. The son that should have been his, the boy he ended up training and raising like his own in a universe ruled by a being amused by his pain and suffering sat to his right, the symmetrical features of his face reminding Nappa of a love forever lost in the darkness of all of creation. He had inherited the flame-shaped hair of his father, but the darkness of it was all Aubera. With a long exhale Nappa tried desperately to reign his focus, each and every time he lost himself in this past a small part of him seemed to die, but ever since a blue-haired spitfire of weak bones and delicate skin had entered their life the memories seemed to return more frequently. And try as he might, he could not seem to banish them plaguing him.

If he knew about anything then it was the pain that arose from a price that had to be paid by duty. A duty that now forced the last piece of _her_ into a position Nappa himself had been occupying for most of his life. It had taken no conscious effort, a mere look at Bulma Briefs of Earth and he had known without the shadow of a doubt that if she had been born a Saiyan she would have been Queen. But as fate would have it, she had been born to a race of weaklings, while the Saiyans themselves were just establishing a new baseline for life without the constant threat of genocide under Frieza. It was too soon in their history to rebel against the ancient rules of their people that dictated a Saiyan female and a full-blooded Saiyan heir as the only acceptable continuation of the royal bloodline. Nappa loathed her for strutting around the palace, drawing Vegeta under her spell, pushing and breaking boundaries and all the while causing history to repeat itself in a manner that promised nothing but pain and anguish. Something he had sworn his life to protect Vegeta from, and he was failing miserably.

Vegeta's interest in women had always been fleeting, deeply rooted in biological drives and Nappa had known the moment he had found out about their shared bath time that precautions needed to be taken to spare the man that ruled him the agony of being denied his first and so far only true show of interest. Azoya was a perfectly suitable choice for being the next queen - or mother to the royal heir - and Nappa knew that Vegeta knew that as well. Like his mother had been, Vegeta was stubborn and would be able to force himself to do anything he had set his mind to - be it a goal or a limitation. After witnessing his morning spar with Azoya Nappa truly hoped that perhaps the young female could be more, that she could quell some of the loneliness that arose with duty and sooth the experiences Vegeta had made so far in life. Her being a formidable warrior of technique and strength was an advantage she held over the exotic - but frail - earthling and Nappa desperately hoped that strength and pheromones would be enough to sway the emperor's focus.

Sinking further into his seat the General resigned himself to his faith, the meeting was going slow, the council unwilling to compromise and he could all but feel Vegeta's temper bubbling under the well-concealed mask of indifference. It would be a while before anyone would leave this room. Angeling his tablet in a discreet position in his lap Nappa used the time to check the scouter activity logs of some of his soldiers known to be a little more rambunctious. A task that was technically underneath his status, but years upon years of leading men had taught him how important it was to be connected to his soldiers and the lives they lived outside the barracks and off the battlefield. The first name to raise a red flag belonged to no other than Raditz, over time Nappa had become used to the wild lifestyle his subordinate enjoyed under Vegeta's protective hand. Not that the stubborn King would ever admit it, but he long suspected that the man that was as close as a brother to Vegeta was allowed this degree of wild independence for the simple fact that the King himself did not have it.

Raditz partied too much, was loud and at times terribly obnoxious, had bedded more females - and possibly males - than Nappa cared to count and was generally involved in every bar fight that made it on his radar. Vegeta, on the other hand, was bound by duty, his schedule strict and rigid, his time in high demand, people watching his every step and females making their attempts at every turn for the simple chance of being close to the crown. A man that had been born a measly third class soldier, before working his way up the ranks, now lived in the palace and enjoyed life to his every heart's content, while the man the actually ruled most of the known Universe was still shackled by the invisible chains of his birthright.

Perhaps that was another reason why Vegeta found the frail female so appealing, she too was bound by rules of her society, undoubtedly less strict rules, but Nappa could spot the loneliness of duty and leadership a star system away. Glancing to the right he took in the twitching brow of the man he loved like a son, the little boy that had tottered between them when he and Aubera had walked in the royal garden, and Nappa promised himself that he would do _everything_ to minimize the damage that had already been done. He was achingly aware that he had been unable to save or even alleviate Vegeta's suffering under Frieza, he simply hadn't been strong enough to do the one task assigned to him, but here, now, he could protect this young man from the pain he himself knew all too well.

* * *

Bulma leaned against the IPS, head bowed low, trying her best to ignore the fresh rumors floating through the laboratory and the way they stung in a manner she had not expected. If word around her was to be believed the King of absolute asshats was involved with another female. A Saiyan female. A warrior like him. Her mind did not even do her the justice of becoming distracted by work, instead replaying over and over the moment she had thought they shared the night before in his private pool. Had she been a clueless fool all along? Coming onto a man that was taken and had, therefore, dismissed her advances? She couldn't help but think of how she had almost leaned in to kiss him before Vegeta had pulled away at the last second - and here she had thought he was simply shy. What a moron she had made out of herself.

The overall mood among the Saiyan members of the laboratory team was ecstatic, conversation fluidly blending from galactic standard to their own growled language and back, they were excited for the savior of their people to have an heir, continue the legacy of the legendary and the prophecy he had fulfilled. By the time it was midday break the scientist's head was swimming with questions, realizing just how much there was to know about Vegeta and his people that she did not have the slightest of clues about. While her ever scientific mind was itching for answers it was a very different part of her that truly longed for answers from him. Somehow she had let her guard down around this foreign man, allowed him to worm his way into her mind and make her feel less lonely than she had in a very, very long time. Ignoring her lab-mates and co-workers she pressed on as everyone filtered out the doors towards the food waiting for them down the hallway, she wasn't hungry anyway, her stomach twisting in knots at the realization that she apparently had been gravely mistaken about the chemistry between them.

Wallowing in her own conflicted emotions Bulma wouldn't have been able to suppress the startled gasps if she tried, Vegeta stood right next to her, watching her with deep intense eyes that pulled her into a world all their own. Clutching a hand against her heart that was beating too fast and too hard she took him in, dark grey suit - her gravity suit - devoid of armor, just the deep valleys and ridges of his muscles tightly packed and outlined under the alien fabric. Envy churned deep in her stomach, whoever got to call this man their own sure was a lucky girl. Forcefully stamping down on her emotions she forced stoic professionalism, he was here for the data readouts and evaluations regarding his suit, just like they had talked about the night prior. She was a professional, not a silly little girl.

Bulma continued with clipped words, avoiding eye contact and swiftly moving about her task, she was unsure if the empty lab was a blessing or a curse, especially when the computer needed time to process the data from his suit and silence settled between them. After several tense minutes of staring stubbornly at the IPS, she huffed in frustration, deciding that perhaps she should just address the issue at hand. _She couldn't possibly feel like a bigger fool, could she?_

"Your Majesty could have told me that you are in a courtship" the galactic standard term for dating feeling foreign on her tongue, "I would have been more respectful of your personal space and privacy". Meeting his eyes was surprisingly hard, Bulma felt like she had to force steel into her spin but she held his gaze nonetheless. Daring him to deny it, to lie straight to her face. _Like Yamcha._

His usually stoic mask twisted into a grimace, his eyes betraying a flash of hurt and maybe even desperation before he chose to focus his gaze elsewhere and clicked his teeth in frustration; when he finally spoke his voice was low and rough like gravel; "It's not a courtship. She's a female among many from which I will have to choose."

"Oh please, your fellow Saiyans have been chatting all morning about how strong your children will be" frustration was thick in her voice, fingers curling into the console in a fight for composure. She hated it when men played these games. When they lied to her face.

"Just because my people are _euphoric_ doesn't mean _I am_ looking forward to fucking a bitch just to get her pregnant!" his lips curled in a furious snarl, before invading her personal space in anger and irritation. Bulma's eyebrows rose at his unusual crude word choice before the true meaning clicked.

 _Oh._

How terribly suffocating it must feel to be forced into having a child for the sake of satisfying other people and the duties of Kingship. Without much thought she reached out, placing her hand against one of the forearms crossed over his chest, the gesture meant to convey her sudden understanding of his situation. Everything had become much clearer so fast that her head was spinning. Joy fluttering unbidden in the pit of her stomach. _Maybe it wasn't too late._

Vegeta took her gesture of sympathy as his cue to spring into sudden action. Much like he had done the first time they had met, he crowded her against the console, his nose softly rubbing against the bridge of her nose and the soft skin between her eyebrows. She could feel his labored breath feather against her cheeks and fluttering lashes, the air around them seemed to be soaked in desperation and forbidden need, and as the Saiyan ever so softly pressed his pelvis into her hips Bulmas breath caught in her throat. Time seemed to stand still as they remained pressed against each other in the middle of the empty lab, just strained breathing and deep inhales, Vegeta gently rubbing his nose against her face while the evidence of his arousal grew thick against her lower belly. Something inside of Bulma wanted to cry, the emotions swimming in her chest too strong and sudden to properly process, sweet need mixing with heated desperation and bitter boundaries.

Never one to be contained by the lines and rules ascribed to her by the outside world Bulma lifted her head incrementally and tenderly pressed her lips against the corner of Vegeta's mouth. The skin there smoother than anything she could have expected, he somehow tasted less salty than a human, startling her sense with a spiciness she had not expected.

"Duty woman," he a whispered bitterly against her skin before kissing her back and pressing closer with a heated exhale, "not choice. Never choice"

Behind them, the IPS beeped with the fully calculated and graphed readouts cutting through the thick tension between them. _Never choice_. The feeling of cold and disappointment that flooded through Bulma as the Saiyan King stepped away from her settled into her bones with chilling clarity. Whatever was between them could not be. He was the King and Emperor to a race that ruled the Universe, while she was the sole heiress to Capsule Corp, and her father's entire life work rested on her shoulders. Her place was earth, his was here leading his people.

She walked him through the readouts in absent-minded trance, briefly considering her chances of going head to head with the mysterious Saiyan warrior woman that would share her life with him, but forcefully stamped that idea down when the doors to the lab swooshed open signaling her co-workers return from midday break and with it the recovery of Vegetas stoic and distant attitude. Data in hand his gaze on her lingered, almost as if he wanted to say something to her, ask her to join him once again in the warm rock pool perhaps, but then he blinked and turned on his heels before striding out as if nothing had ever happened between them.

After her breakup with Yamcha, she had thought that an adventure into space and the exploration of this alien world would keep her safe from future heartbreak, and, most importantly allow her to solidify her image of an independent and strong woman, capable of facing anything. What she had actually gotten was enthralled by a man that was downright otherworldly and guarded by walls that would have taken her a lifetime to conquer. Staring down at the Interactive Planetary System her nimble fingers moved over its smooth surface, requesting server access for Capsule Corps main headquarters back on earth, trying desperately to ignore the stinging of her eyes. 29 years of life be damned she suddenly longed to embrace her mother, taste her cooking and be assured that everything would be alright. Because for all the luxuries being a Briefs had awarded her, it had left her unprepared for this; for meeting a man as headstrong as herself, so goal-oriented to inspire her, smart enough to rival her and as utterly lonely as herself. Only for him to be unreachable, born on a world so far and different from her own, bound by a culture and rules neither of them could overcome and tormented by monsters even her own wild imagination could not fathom.

This was the moment her mother had once warned her about with tender words and a sad smile, that sometimes in life caring for a person and desperately wanting to be a part of their life and perhaps even happiness was not enough, for all her life she had foolishly believed to be above that. That her clever mind and influence could work around anything. The realization that she couldn't stung more than she could have ever imagined and as her legs carried her back to her room she knew that this would forever be her "what if". 

* * *

It was a cracking sound, the inhale that followed wet and pained and Vegeta knew this spar was over. Raditz had kept pace as good as could have been expected from him, but Vegeta's seething rage at the utter mess his personal life had become had reduced him to a bloody and gasping mess on the royal training grounds. Trying to curb his legendary temper the King signaled for two servants to take his oldest comrade to a regeneration tank while he himself went for a long cold shower.

Visiting Bulma in the laboratory, losing control, kissing her, it had been a mistake. And yet, everything with the blue spitfire came naturally in a way it never before had with anyone else, while Azoya had evoked a purely biological response Bulma had captivated him beyond base instincts. He longed to see her naked, touch and caress for more than millions of years of biology recognizing a fertile female. Selections were still a few sunrises off - despite the council pushing for a speedy decision - and he knew that the petite Saiyan female was not the only choice he could make, but why overcomplicate things when he had already made the first steps with a woman that would get the job required of him done. Not to mention that rumors about him and Azoya already seemed to have traveled the palace. Given that he knew his General would never engage in gossip like that it only left one other person, his stomach knotted, and his mind chalked it off as too much ambition.

 _Just one son. That's all you need, all she'll be good for._

The water against his skin felt pleasant, and after a good meal, he found himself lounging in one of his less formal sitting rooms, combing through reports on his tablet as Raditz joined him on the sofa opposite to him. Regeneration fluid was still caked in his long dark hair making Vegeta sneer at the furniture that was likely to get ruined should his man get too comfortable; not that he could particularly blame Raditz, washing that gunk out of hair was a remarkably hard feature to accomplish and Vegeta thanked the gods every day that he had servants to help him with that feet.

"I fucked the human."

Raditz ever blunt statement got his attention, startled he scowled at his subordinate, his mind immediately scrambling, reminding him that there was no way in hell that Raditz was talking about Bulma - however odd this conversation starter was.

"You were gonna find out anyway, ya always do, so I'm telling you now." The look on his face must have been more confused than anything because the man pressed on as Vegeta lowered his tablet to fully regard him. "I'm not even sorry man. She came to yell at me, but ya know how things go, Aika is such a tight little thi-..."

He trailed off as Vegeta held up his hand, god's forbid the man continue and make his brain bleed out of his ears.

"By all the gods Raditz, spare me the details".

With a man as Raditz, well known for his hookups and involvement in other questionable sexual activities, the King did his best to remain oblivious to as many of them as possible. While there certainly was no shame in the act of sex, be it between bonded mates or not, there was such a thing as too much detail and too many people. Vegeta was simply not inclined in knowing what half the capitol liked in bed, much less with a man that was lounging on his furniture, eating from his assorted foods and bedding the woman in his harem.

Maybe it would be best to get away from everything for a while, the council, upcoming selections, Raditz boasting stories, and lastly Bulma. Clear his mind focus on his duty and return to the palace like he had been before everything had become an utter mess, with single-minded focus, blind to the lures that only distracted him from his duty. But as he was coming up with a plan on how to move the basis of his operation in the midst of the ongoing conflict and espionage with the Colds his mind kept coming up with images of Bulma. Her big blue eyes, the way her skin glistened in the water of his rock pool, the way it had flushed, the steel in her spine and the fire in her eyes when she defied him, the way she had touched him so tenderly in the laboratory, as if he was the most valuable person in her life, the softness of her lips against his own. Every fiber of his being screamed at him for duty to be damned and a small part of him withered and died when he realized he couldn't. Not without spitting on everything his people believed in, everything his people needed him to be.

The beeping of his scouter caused a sudden end to his internal struggle as Vegeta brought it to his ear, more than surprised to have the supervisor of the docking bay at the other end of the line. Someone was requesting an un-scheduled and un-sanctioned departure from Vegetasei immediately. Despite his gut instinct knowing right away just who was requesting such a hastened departure, he found himself asking anyway, despite himself, despite knowing better, his chest constricted painfully as he was informed that Bulma was on standby for departure. For a glimpse of a second Vegeta considered not giving the okay, for grounding her, forcing her to keep working directly under his command, where he could not be with her, but where he could see her. But knowing a thing or two about being stuck in a place where one did not want to be stuck at he knew better than to try and force this woman's hand.

The feelings swirling inside of him were eerily similar to the ones he had as a child, dreading to take the first step onto the ship of the Lizard Lord, only this time he was old enough to understand the scoop and reach this decision would have. It took far more than he would ever admit, even to himself, to utter the next words,

"Grant it".

* * *

 _...please don't kill me...?_


	12. Of Dying Stars and Oceans

I had a long detailed apology written for this in regards to the long wait - i decided not to apologize. While I hate having so much time between updates I had my world fall apart around me, I was in so much pain that even if this would be my job I would have not been able to write. I needed to take care of myself - emotionally, mentally, physically. I will finish this story, I promise, but i will care for my own well being first. Thank you for all your understanding and continued support I am grateful to be a part of this fandom.

Also, buckle up, because I am about to fuck you up.

* * *

 _Bulmas breath hitched in response to the strong hands gliding over her ribs, skin so much like her own, yet so subtly different in texture traveling down her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Nobody had caressed her like this before, with hands so strong they could end worlds and lips so soft they grazed her like silky pedals of an extraterrestrial flower she had once touched. The tip of his nose was the first part of him to make contact with her most private folds, hot breath feathered across the sensitive skin making her bite her lip in response and curl her hands in the sheets. His orders had been clear, if she touched him he would stop. A feat that was harder to accomplish than she had ever thought possible - the valleys and ridges of his sculpted body singing to her like a siren song she almost couldn't resist._

 _Vegeta's tongue stroked over her small bud of pleasure with surprising strength, the texture of it so much rougher than her own that she startled with surprise, her hands reflexively coming up to grab a hold of his hair. The only thing that stopped her just in time was the warning growl that emitted from deep within his chest and vibrated against her sensitive skin in a way to should have been forbidden. Hands hovering precariously close to the flame of his hair Bulma fought for control, her stomach tightening in familiar bliss as she buried desperate fingers into her own strands of hair, holding onto a blue ocean while moaning loudly - whether to voice her struggle or building pleasure she wasn't sure herself. Manicured toes curled into immaculately white sheets while a single thick digit breached her wet lips and curled against her most sensitive spot. Eyes as dark as the vastness of the universe that had separated them since birth, but glowing like hot charcoals in their intensity, stared up at her, reading her every move, exploiting every whimpered show of weakness, every mewl of desperate approval, every sob for more more more._

 _The pressure in her lower belly was building, climbing higher and higher in a desperate race to fall over the edge as her hands curled and uncurled in her own hair, hips desperately trying to gyrate despite Vegeta's strong palms pressing her into the mattress - making her a helpless victim to his ongoing assault of pleasure. Her heart raced in her chest, breathing erratic and fanatic as her back arched off the sheets and with a soundless cry she_ ….woke up. Alone in her bedroom.

Frustration clutched her chest so tightly where minutes ago she had felt nothing but pure bliss that Bulma couldn't help but reflexively hit her sheets in anger and disappointment. Not again! This was the 3rd dream of such exotic and wanton nature this month alone, weeks and weeks of pent-up frustration already laying behind her. While her sudden departure from Vegetasei and subsequent arrival back home on earth had been long forgotten by the media, as well as seemingly most people around her, Bulma's body was apparently less willing to forget. Especially about Vegeta. Night after night she dreamt of worlds painted in the brightest of reds, of people devoted to strength and dominance, of eyes as dark and endless as the nights' sky - and of Vegeta. Always of Vegeta.

Breathing deeply and trying to rid herself of the vivid dream that had woken her before the best part, Bulma faintly registered rain pelting against her windows - oh how she missed the warm calm nights on Vegetasei that were only rivaled in their beauty by the morning race of twin suns across the horizon. She missed the warm night breeze and the glowing nights of a Capital that was as alien to her as she was to it. But she was here. On Earth. And despite having taken on more responsibility within the company, almost relieving her aging father entirely of his duties, her retreat home still stung like a bitter defeat. It did not help matters when a few weeks ago the news had broken that Yamcha was dating again. A ridiculously young model that fawned over him publicly in a manner that made bile rise in her throat whenever Bulma happened to see a picture of them in her moms beloved tabloids and gossip magazines. She herself had considered diving into the dating pool again - she was after all the most eligible bachelorette in the world - but so far she had not come across anyone to spark her interest. Aimless casual dating was not high on her radar, she was too busy, and furthermore not interested in being titled a slut by the media - so Bulma endured her minds cruel tricks night after night diving deeper into work morning after morning. Stubbornly refusing to scratch the festering itch. He would not have control over her life or actions in any way, not even like this.

Pushing the sheets back the scientist stretched tired limbs before making the short trek to her en-suite bathroom, there was little use in trying to force sleep and a hot shower sounded like a good distraction to ease her tensions. Dark circles greeted her in the bathroom mirror, being the most powerful women on the planet had its drawbacks, her schedule was packed every day and once she stepped into being Dr. Briefs of Capsule Corp. she rarely got a minute to herself until she returned to the privacy of her bedroom in the evening. When she had returned from Vegetasei in her small Pod the Docking Bay had already largely been finished - making for a smoother landing this time around - and the barracks, as well as various other structures of Saiyan making, were in differing stages of completion. Since then the lines between Saiyan and Human life had started to blur significantly - splitting society in those embracing the changes and those suspicious of the strange aliens making outposts on the planet humanity called home.

While civilians adjusting to new jobs, new ways of life and now co-habitants was still a work in progress the business economy - including Capsule Corp - had thrived with the vast amount of new opportunities that had arisen. Trade was going increasingly good, shipments of the capsules had settled into a smooth routine that no longer required her constant direct attention, and Bulma had yet to fully explore all the different and new materials suddenly at her scientific disposal to solve problems previously thought unsolvable. Perhaps a fair trade considering the fact that it had also created an unsolvable problem. Albeit a private one. The Gravity Suit was still her own project - a private little piece for which she reserved all creative freedom and only trusted her employees with simple upgrade and bug-fixes.

As Bulma stepped into the shower and steam began to fill her luxurious bathroom with thick towels and heated floors she promised herself that this would be the last night she mourned the loss of something that never even was. Her father's entire legacy rested on her shoulders, the world needed her to pull off this new balancing act of handling intergalactic affairs and trading agreements that kept her people save from a danger she only knew about, but deep down in her gut, on an animalistically instinctive level, knew she never wanted to have to face. Perhaps, she thought, as her washcloth left sudsy trails, Bulma Briefs of Earth had a destiny greater than finding love.

* * *

Raditz now handled any and all communication as well as handling issues regarding the Gravity Suit. A circumstance for which Vegeta was secretly thankful, almost as thankful as his subordinates unusual excellent silence on the matter. Issues and complaints Vegeta relayed during training were silently noted and undoubtedly confabulated as the voiced dislikes always improved or were even remedied in the upgraded version of his suit that would await him in the form of a single capsule a few sunrises later. Always in the same spot. Always without a word. Always the same single capsule.

 _Until today._

Today the capsule was red. A perfect match to his home worlds deadlands. One unlike all the others, vibrant in color, no doubt a custom piece with his family's coat of arms engraved into the single blue button that unlocked the masterpiece of technology which held his suit. In itself another masterpiece of technology. Another masterpiece of her - birthed in the mind of a woman who seemed to have been born to create, to give life and rise to things thought dead and lost. The sudden change in design was so far the only clue that the female had thought about him since her hastened departure. The steady supply of improved suits was most likely due to capable underlings making simple adjustments to the overall state of the art training equipment she had created - but this capsule and the detailed engraving spoke volumes about the things that had transpired between them that day in his laboratories. Vegeta hated it.

For him the sands of time had pushed on harsh and unrelenting, the shackles of responsibility and Kingship drawing tighter, his council restless and his people hopeful over rumors. This red capsule tore at things best forgotten, things he had been too weak to extinguish and prevent before they hard spiraled into this chaotic web of emotions. A weakness so readily exploited, so often the fall of great man. Selections were close. He had met a variety of young and eligible women. Capable to do the task required of them, worthy of sharing his bed and carry his offspring, but all of them shallow in attachment and easily replaced or forgotten. None of them like here; defying and wild, daring him to push further and break rules. His own rules. None of them an ocean of abundant viridity and headstrong daring youth.

Frustration made his thoughts hazy as he stepped around the table on which the object of his predicament laid, striding through the open doors and onto the lavish balcony of his chambers the King took flight, paying little respect to the well established no-flight zones and heading to the one place he had not been in many, many years. The mountain of Kings.

The priestess that greeted him was the same old women he had last visited with his mother when he had merely been a young cub. Her dwelling, halfway up the impressive mountain that was the final resting place for every King of Vegetasei before returning to the stars, from which his ancestors had once come, was the same as he remembered. Small and marked by the passing of time just as the women regarding him with dimming eyes, her displeasure of his disregard to walking the path up the mountain, a sign of respect, and instead of flying directly was clear on her face. The once shiny long dark hair which was the trademark of many Saiyan women had grayed, she had reached an age many never thought attainable by a member of his species and she had been the Priestess for as long as he could remember - before he had been born even.

"You have grown as formidable as the tales that reach me in these far-off heights my King" the corners of her lips curling in a knowing way, of course, she knew. It was her that had foretold his birth, prophecied his destiny and given his people hope. "I remember it like it was yesterday, you had just begun your formal training, your mother had brought you here, seeking guidance for the future. A remarkable woman. She carried you to term - I see so much of her in you."

The softest of breezes rustled his hair, hair so much like his fathers, while his stomach twisted in knots. Nobody had mentioned his mother in years. Nappa knew better than to breach the topic and for most, she had faded from memory with the task of their everyday lives. But the woman before him was no ordinary Saiyan, she had seen the rise and fall of Kings, the creation of empires and their demise, perhaps she had even truly been touched by the gods as legends claimed. Wise beyond his council Chaya had taken measure of him like no other. _Well, no other Saiyan._

"Selections are soon" Vegeta pressed, ignoring the start and the particular topic of her conversation. Even after many years, the loss of his mother sat too deeply, the emotional attachment formed by endless sunrises within her womb overwhelming his limited capabilities of dealing with these emotions. Selections were a safe choice, a relevant choice, a choice he needed to make for his people against his own wishes.

Chaya laughed, a genuinely amused laugh that seemed to defy her bodily age in its youthfulness; "Your Highness is more than capable to make such a decision", the delight faded from her features as the wrinkles around her eyes turned tense, "I will not divine an excuse you already know is not logical Vegeta". The use of his first name startled him, agitation churning in his stomach at her gall to imply that he was coming to her to receive a pardon on his kingly duties, but before he had a chance to even respond she pressed on, unimpressed by his dangerously flicking Ki.

"It is okay to thirst for the blue of water this planet lacks, nevertheless oceans are not drained to fish and gazing at fruits does not quell thirst." Her grey eyes that had just moments ago seemed impossibly dim were now sparkling with mirth as she stepped closer and reached for his hand, touching her forehead to the back of it in reverence, humming a prayer so familiar it was as if his mother was whispering to him in the wind, only for Chaya to turn around and leave him standing alone on the small plateu, listening to the currents of air for a voice he had not heard in years.

The red dirt crunched under his boots as Vegeta turned on his heels, giving his back to the small home and surveying what previously had been denied his careful watch. Despite only being at the halfway point to the summit of the Mountain of Kings Chaya's small post on this plateau offered impressive views. Red stone reaching for the skies before dropping off dramatically into the desert lands that laid sprawling all the way to the gates of his Capital. Vastness and silence were ones only companions this far from another soul - so contrary to his bustling life filled with voices and bodies that followed him around, needed orders and advice, or wanted his favor. Muling over the old woman's words Vegeta exhaled in frustration, he knew the meaning of those lines, there was no point in vain hope for something unattainable, no point in ignoring potential consequences. The longer he dragged this decision out the more grueling it would become, but despite the gravity that came with defeated acceptance of this task Vegeta felt nothing more than the comforting familiarity of his mother's embrace last time she had taken his hand and they had made this climb.

* * *

The suit had improved greatly - so had his mood. After returning from the mountain Vegeta had donned the new suit, gone about his necessary meetings and pushed himself through a grueling session with Nappa and Raditz. There was more bubbling beyond the surface of Super Saiyan, he had felt the faint tingle of more power once before but disregarded it as a siren song of his ego, now he was sure. More power lay dormant within him - and with the help of this suit he would reach it, uncover it and tame this beast of Ozzaru and the untapped strength he had never thought possible. He would have to make arrangements with Raditz and his scientists to further optimize the gravity suit in much faster increments - as his Generals most recent intel was alluding to the possible formation of a Cold outpost just a few galaxies from Vegetasei.

Tonight however contrastive things needed to be taken care off. It was crucial that he submerged himself in a new training regimen for himself and his army to be ready for the scales of war to tip, as well as his new quest for the tingling power beyond Super Saiyan - which only meant he would be well advised to eradicate other distractions from his mind, other choices that were forced upon him.

The material of the loose traditional Saiyan pants was soft and airy, made for the cooling nights, that came with the season, allowing him to remain bare-chested after his bath and dinner. The first of the planet's suns was just dipping below the horizon, chasing a fiery spectacle of light across the sky and the impressive open doors of his chamber when Azoya entered. She was still dressed in her official elite suit, but her long hair was already flowing freely over her shoulders likely she had been on her way to her own quarters when his messenger intercepted her. The golden specks in her eyes dancing with excitement as soon as she had entered and spotted him, the sinking suns dancing in the gold of her orbs when she surveyed the room before stepping up to his open balcony doors;

"It is a beautiful night. Thank you for calling on me - the view is.." her eyes darted to him as he came up next to her ".. _.exquisite_ ". They had sparred a few more times since the morning she had sought him out on his own training grounds, he had formally met her again during one of the royal banquets for pre-selections only a few sunrises ago, and rumors had been soaring ever since. Azoya was a formidable warrior, a daughter of noble birth and fearless in her strategies - amongst all the women he had met, she was as Saiyan as his people aspired to be. Vegeta stepped closer, observing what his people had once believed to be the death of their glowing twin stars from just behind her shoulder, studying the rise and fall of her body with each breath. The female smelled intoxicating, young, like a flower just coming into bloom and biology all but begged him to finally give his people what they wanted. To her credit she remained perfectly still as he drew his nose up the back of her ear, his own hands casually placed in the loose pockets of his pants when he whispered lowly;

"Disrobe".

She shed her suit like a second skin, delicate and fluid movements revealing smooth rich skin, devoid of scars spanning over lean muscles. The beating of her heart gave her away, but her breathing remained slow and steady - perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. A transaction of necessity and pleasure. Vegeta withdrew his nose from the warm spot behind her ear, pointing to the adjacent door of his bed chambers;

"Through there. On the bed. All fours".

The young Saiyan whirled around with more speed than he had been prepared for, a look of scandalized disbelief marring her otherwise pleasant features, and not even her nakedness could take away from the upset flicker of her Ki.

"I deserve more!" The bold statement reflexively made his eyebrows rise high before annoyance at her entitlement settled into his bones, not even giving her outburst the dignity of a response he clicked his teeth in agitation, the soft tail unwinding from his waist and puffing out in anger and warning. To Azoyas credit she was as fearless as he had given her credit for, anger rising flush in her cheeks as she pressed on, Vegeta couldn't tell if she was ignoring the signs of his rising temper or was simply too mad to have her guard up;

"If you think I am the kind of warrior that gets left pregnant like a common courtesan you are misguided!" venom dripping from her mouth, daggers shooting from her eyes, she was a woman of noble blood indeed, "I fought to be here! I deserve to be the mother of your heir and your Queen! Not some brode mare to be used! Either I reign with you or you will not get what you want t-"

The words died in her throat as his hand wrapped around it, her back hitting the armrest of the nearest couch with a loud thud that left her gasping for air even harder, eyes wide with shock at the speed with which he had pinned her down. Azoya had never even seen him move. Her back arched over the armrest at an awkward angle and only the toes of her bare feet grazed the cooling extravagant floors as the Kings weight pressed into the smaller female. Fading turquoise reflecting in golden specks amidst dark pools. The fanatic thrumming of her pulse underneath his palm was intoxicating and as he whispered in her hear that this was most certainly not because of anything _he_ wanted Vegeta found himself squeezing just a bit more to emphasize his words. Time seemed to be a nonsensical measure in the moments that followed, Azoyas own delicate fingers having wrapped around his wrist loosened and as coal black found eyes as sprinkled as the sky understanding passed between them. _Not for him, not for her, but for their people._

As her back arched further in invitation, dragging his loosened hand from her throat to the swell of her breast, Vegeta distantly acknowledged that her willingness to sacrifice would have made her a great Queen. His train of thought came to a stuttering halt as a soft silk tail wound around his own, coaxing him closer with the promise of pleasure in duty. As he unfastened his pants, letting his head fall into his neck Vegeta didn't fight the ocean of blue that embraced him when he closed his eyes.

* * *

Aika rested her head against the cool surface of her pillow, worry keeping her up late again as she wondered distantly about the happenings of the past few months. After learning that Bulma had hastily left Vegetasei she had returned just a few days after, wanting to ensure her Boss was alright - it was unusual for her to leave without giving Aika instructions or deadlines, so had followed in worry at the break of routine. The young woman had been a part of Bulmas life since she had taken the job to be her personal assistant, together they had made it through the many crises of the relationship which had been Yamcha as well as Bulmas rise to the top of her field - in a strange way they were like friends.

Despite that Aika had been unable to tell Bulma the truth - so she had quit. Perhaps it had been her own guilt rather than worry that had driven her back to earth from Vegetasei, after all, she had slept with Raditz. What had been supposed to be a severe scolding, and then a dumping turned into the most passionate sex she had ever had. At night she still dreamt of it, dreamt of him. The way his hands were large and rough, so much like her own, but the tendons and muscles wrapping around the bone in such subtly different ways that required a close observer - like she had been when he had caressed and petted her.

Now it was her own conscience and fear that kept her here, alone and awake in her apartment, unable to share with the world because she feared their judgment. She had seen how people judged, had seen what it did to Bulma in the moments the young woman thought nobody was watching, she herself was not that strong. Aika knew that about herself, knew she would succumb to hurt and even more guilt - instead she was here, awake, hanging on to the hope that everything would be alright. As her hand found her stomach, more swollen than it was normal for the 3 months mark, she desperately prayed for even the fraction of a strength of her former boss.

* * *

 _... to be continued_


	13. The Price Of Freedom

For time references, A saiyan Moon cycles is about 5 earth weeks, so at this point in the story Bulma has left Vegetasei about 6 months ago, and 3 moon cycles is about 15 weeks.

Also please rest assured that **this IS a Bulma & Vegeta story,** what I am writing here might feel very final, but trust me the next 1-2 chapters will change everything. So just keep an open mind :) Happy Reading.

* * *

Small pieces of red rock splintered and fell each time he shifted his weight, beginning their rapid descent towards the ground, noisily hitting larger red stones and debris in free fall along the mountainside on which he was sitting. Over the years he had come here numerous time, in the weak and lonely moments when the possibilities of a long since lost past were haunting him, making him restless and angry at the way life had turned out.

Nappa had been on his way up the countless stairs carved into the mountain itself when he had felt the Ki of his sovereign - who had elected to skip the sacred ritual of making the ascend by foot, earning the view and the guidance of the priestess that called the mountain home, their cultures gatekeeper between the living and the dead, those who had returned to the stars from which their proud forefathers believed they had come. The sudden arrival of Vegeta in the desolated heights had worried Nappa - it had been years of sunrises and sunsets since his King had been to this peak which ultimately would become his final resting place - the unscheduled lone trip also spoke volumes about his emotional turmoil. Aubera had once taken her son here, just days before her death, days before both of them were thrown into servitude to a monster that almost annihilated them all.

His father had been a religious man, he had taken Nappa to walk the long and steep walk to the gate of stars at the top of this mountain numerous times before his younger self-had even learned to fly properly. Years passed and his teenage self-had taken Aubera, made the climb with her, joked and bantered about their futures in the military service of the King and gazed in awe from the peak of their world over the vastness of the Kingdom they called home.

The memories ached painfully whenever he recalled them, the scenery hadn't changed much since he had been a young man, up here gazing at a world that he had once believed to share with a woman he felt connected to - now, countless years later, he gazed at a world which had become the center of an empire nearly unfathomable in size, raised out of dust as fine as the red earth below him, by the son of the very woman he had never been capable of fully letting go.

Movement next to him startled him out of his thoughts and he had to begrudgingly complement Chaya for her stealth as she sank down next to him with the fluid grace of a goddess that had supposedly given her the gifts of priesthood. Eyes darker than the abyss of space studied him for fleeting moments before she cut him off mere seconds before Nappa was about to voice the uncertainties that had driven him up the mountain.

"You're worries are for naught, my soldier. Faith has already chosen, it will come knocking whenever it suits itself".

The growl that rose in his throat was almost as reflexive as the tension that left his body at her words. For all the ways Chaya liked to speak in riddles her prophecies and advice had always turned out to be truthful and accurate. From the birth of Vegeta to the fall and the subsequent steep rise of their Kingdom - if this old woman assured him his worries were not required he would trust her.

He would trust her that his worries for Vegeta's preoccupation with the blue-haired, weak bodied spit fire from earth would cease, that he would refocus on the tasks ahead of him, that his King would have the son their people had been waiting for.  
He would trust Chaya that their efforts in planning the demise of what remained of the Colds would be victorious and that the enemy would crumble to ashes beneath the boots of his soldiers and the steady reign of his King.  
He would trust that a potential heir, a new child, a new boy, would not become another victim in the tides of history repeating itself, making a new prince a new target.  
He would trust the priestess that the mother of this new child would live a better life, a happier life than the woman who had left them all to early. Nappa would do for Chaya as he always commanded his soldiers, to follow him with trust even in the doubtful and dark moments of battle and war, in time of uncertainty and hesitancy.

Focusing his gaze on the horizon and the surging wall of the Capital he only hoped that the price that came with it this time wouldn't be too high. Silence settled between them and Nappa observed the ground many stories below his freely hanging feet, jagged rock and smooth cliff walls reached the dirt below him in a dancing mosaic, alternating in patterns and texture. As his dark eyes followed the patterns drawn by wind and time his mind wandered, recalling the reckless tension with which his sovereign had pursued training lately. The fancy suit the root of all problems had built for Vegeta was paying off, but instead of satisfaction, he seemed more and more desperate to reach a level neither Nappa nor Radditz seemed to be able to comprehend. The transformation to Super Saiyan which had once been the pinnacle of power for Vegeta - and the entire Saiyan race that had bowed at the feet of a man they celebrated as a god of war - now seemed to be a frustration-inducing limitation for the very man that had spend almost his entire life pursuing a prophecy with single-minded focus and determination.

"He's restless Chaya, training harder and longer, he's pushing himself past levels anyone can compete with and I don't know what kind of power he's reaching for. I can't help him". I can't protect him.

The fabrics of her gown rustled with the wind, the brightest of oranges dueling with the darkest of black fabrics, competing in contrast only with the eyes of the woman who wore them and the ground underneath them both; when Chaya found his gaze she gifted him with a nod of patience. He had spoken despite her advice, and as she gathered her thoughts to likely give him an answer riddled with mystery, Nappa found himself thankful for the patience she exuded, the same patience he so often had tried to draw upon when Vegeta had been a mere child.

"Power, General Nappa, can only be measured by the willingness of a man to surrender."

The scoff that rose in his throat was almost as reflexives as pushing himself off the cliff in order to avoid the displeasure of the High Priestess at having sneered at her advice. Saiyans never surrendered - and neither would their King.

* * *

The air was thick, too thick for Vegeta's taste, the control room stuffed with his counsel, advisors and a few major generals all crowded to follow the latest reports that were unraveling directly from their spy within the Colds main operation. After what felt like countless nights and days they finally had a chance for revenge! Strike back for what the remainder of the Cold Empire had done to them when they had attacked the labor planet and killed hundreds, backing Vegeta in a diplomatic and strategic corner with shipments of food and weaponry. This was the moment they had been waiting for - the enemies ship needed to change out fuel cells - with the rapid advancement of technology these feats were becoming more and more rare, the energy cores lasting longer and longer, making these complicated maintenance stops for intergalactic long distance cruisers an almost singular occasion. A once in a lifetime feat that Vegeta himself had never been part of abroad Friezas trusted insider had just provided them with the scheduled maintenance logs, giving them a clear location and time for the revenge that had been building in their hearts like a steadily rising drum, reaching its crescendo with this priceless piece of information.

Sinope - a small planet known for maintenance and repairs of all kind of star cruisers - more a junkyard than an actual ball of rock floating in the abyss, making it nothing more than a pit stop on the wayside of the intergalactic travel and trading routes which brought riches and prosperity to the other the planets in its star system. They had three sun rises to ready their soldiers, pods and ships alike while strategizing for the best plan of attack to once and for all eradicate the Cold name.

As the kegel of volume and voices rose around him Vegeta remained quiet, breathing heavily, deeply, and for the first time in a long time almost contently. He would be able to fight this battle, test the limits of his new found power, taste the fruits of his endless labor with this new gravity suit, win this war that had drawn out over almost an entire generation of his people, had consumed most of his life and in a twisted turn of fate pressured him into the very solution for the problem - at the right time.

It had been 3 moon cycles since Azoya had come to him, in the early hours of the morning, as the suns were still fighting their way over the mountain peaks, she had caught him in an ungraded moment of contemplation sitting at the corner of his bedding. Dressed in expensive robes and with the fluid grace of an elite warrior and a daughter of noble birth, she had bowed her head to his knees, while sinking to her own, dark hair falling to cover her face like the thickest and glossiest of curtains as she had whispered the words that freed and enslaved him all at once. She was carrying his cub.

A cub that gave him the freedom of having an heir, the freedom to lead his troops to a battle more than two star systems away - the freedom to wage War and revenge everything which should have been.

A cub that enslaved him to his people, to their culture and traditions, isolating him from a woman millions of lightyears away the opposite direction - whom he had not seen since she had left in a hurry 5 moon cycles ago.

The warrior inside of him was roaring, his Ozaruu rattling its cage, keen and eager to test the limits of his new powers in an all-out blood fight. Vegeta craved the adrenaline, the pumping of his own heart, the rush of blood that drowned everything else out till nothing remained but the whisper of the warrior drums of his ancestors. He wanted to rain hell down upon the battlefield till the earth was soaked in blood, till the air was saturated with the smell of it, coating his airways and sending all instincts that made him the superior Saiyan warrior into overdrive. Now there was no council holding him back, no worries for his life to spend another battle in this war on the sidelines observing from the security of his palace - like a god of war in a golden cage.

The knuckles underneath his gloved hand had turned white by the time Vegeta rose from his seat, the people around him falling silent as if someone had flicked a switch, good, countless heads with thick black hair bowed in respect while waiting for his verdict. He had given up everything to be here, to sit at the head of this table, to make this decision, to lead his people.

They were going to War.

* * *

She was downright hissing at him, teeth bared in irritation and anger as Azoya fought for her composure to remain stationary - instead of pacing her chambers like an angry caged animal - her flowing wrapped dress dancing with the breeze from the open balcony doors, outlining the growing swell of her abdomen while the jewels signifying her noble status, laying heavy against her collarbones, twinkled in an almost hypnotic contest with the golden specks in her eyes.

"It's a trap! It can only be a trap!"

Her voice an angry hiss, her tail swaying behind in agitation, worry for him only thinly coating her tone, the elite warrior in front of him was furious at being left behind, being left pregnant and without a true mate, without a claim to reign and decide in his absence, without a say. Without a choice - at least on this particular topic.

Vegeta knew that position well, the helplessness that came with being backed into a corner, but his sympathy was wearing thin, Azoya would return to the battlefield once their cub reached the desired age to be announced as the one true heir. Vegeta had promised her the choice to find a mate of her choosing, or dedicate her life to battle, and he had granted the female her unwavering and dangerous request to carry the cub to term - no incubation pod - just like his mother. Up until this point they had made the odd arrangement work well- for all her flaring temper she was after all a desirable elite warrior of noble birth and the King had promised himself to not repeat his father's mistakes.

"You grew up without a mother!". Azoya had changed tactics. Clever. "My son will not grow up without a father!" her voice steady and deadly this time around, tipping the scales of their battle without a single KI blast. She cared.

His gloveless hand found the swell of her stomach, the ki pulsing beneath his palm strong and steady, the glow of another life warm and soothing even through the expensive material of her dress, Azoya turned her head in a false show of spite as he carefully rested his forehead against her temple. Do better than your father.

Vegeta remembered every single time what it had been like to have her, skin free from the horrors of servitude, thrumming power that had never know oppression, eyes that sparkled with every whimsical want she had been granted all her life - being bedded by the King of their race, their god of war, the prophesied savior of their people - included. She had felt nice, warm and strong, and pleased him greatly, a Saiyan Woman his teenage self had often imagined in his darkest nights, but now, as an adult with the dreams of his younger self at the tip of his fingers, everything was covered in a haze of blue he couldn't shake, brought on by a woman so frail and different she should never have crossed his path in the first place.

After she had informed him of the cub she was carrying their nights had ended, their relationship had been civil, falling into their respective roles easily - Azoya had become a comrade he would gladly take into battle with him. He respected her as an elite warrior and the mother of his only child.

The palm of his hand followed the contour of her stomach, he distantly wondered if his father had ever done this to his mother before he had been born, fighting the sour taste of unpleasant memories resurfacing, increasing the weight of his forehead against her temple he fixed his eyes on the expensive stone floors in Azoyas chambers;

"I will return as surely as I know that I will lead our people to War. There will be more battles and more glory - but this one is mine to finish."

Vegeta didn't giver her the time to answer or to argue, he turned on his heels and left her standing in the expensive and lavish chamber of his palace that had been assigned to her, trying to leave the rising bad memories of his past behind. Weighing the risk of a potential trap he shook his head free of her words, civility and respect be damned he was the King of his people, Emperor of more than half of the known Universe and he would wage War whenever he damn well pleased. He had sacrificed too much, spend too much of his life in the service of others - first a monster and now his people - to deny himself the call of bloodshed.

* * *

It was huge, towering and sprawling like everything the Saiyans had build on their home-world, it even rivaled Capsule Corp headquarters in size and Bulma had to fight the rising urge to expand immediately in order to not be left second best.

The docking bay was finished, it was enormous as it was efficient and it reminded her of the man she couldn't stop thinking about, a man millions of light-years away - she had dated around a bit in the past few months, discretely hiding from the tabloids and the press, but nothing had come to fruition. She could have settled for a few nice guys she had met along the way, all handsome, rich and educated - but settling was not something Bulma Briefs did. Ever. Now she was here at an office neatly tucked away in the back of the docking bay to discuss the standardized outfitting of elite attack pods with her capsules, as well as take a peek at some weapon Raditz had asked her to evaluate and improve. Over the past 6 months they had become an effective team, for all his womanizing, charm and wild partying - one could easily tell from the raspy sound of his voice after a bender - Raditz was a capable asset of the Kingdom and Bulma long since had the feeling that his devoted service to the King was born out of more than just loyalty.

The Plasma gun in front of her was state of the arch, perhaps a little to much recoil for someone of her size and power level but her scientific mind knew that once she got her hands on the blueprints she would be able to run wild with this project as long as she met the deadline. Something big was happening behind the curtains of ironclad secrecy that the Saiyans kept so well - she had offered her help to Raditz numerous times over the holographic intercom but had not received a single useful insight in return.

Despite half a year having passed the scientist knew that her unrivaled access and freedom to work and tinker with Saiyan technology was more than likely because Vegeta was holding a protective hand over her from afar - the occasional sour faces of his underlings on her home planet gave their incredulous disposition to her - a mere earthling - almost unrestricted access away. Her workers back on Vegetasei were making progress with her protective grid and were scheduled to go live in just a few earth days, as her workers on earth started loading the new precious cargo to be taken back to her lab, Cabba, her new direct point of contact with the Saiyans on earth pulled her aside. Chard had been re-assigned to a new outpost, a fleeting face in the every growing reach of the Saiyans. The features of this new mans face were softer than that of any Saiyan she had met so far, and Bulma assumed that it was well-hidden youth, tucked away beneath an armor of power and self-assuredness, that somehow made him seem less threatening. The scientist guessed he was perhaps the son of a wealthy and influential Saiyan gaining his first diplomatic experiences, unaware of her musing Cabba handed her a box, smooth polished stone that was oddly warm to the touch.

"It arrived this morning. He wanted you to have it."

There was no need to ask who "he" was and any further question would not have been accommodated as Cabba left her as soon as she had received the box. Saiyans, she had learned, did not like to talk about feelings or gossip - which also meant that not one juicy tidbit of information on the King himself, or his private entanglements, had trickled down the grapevine - once a task was considered done the Saiyans moved on to the next - efficient worker bees building a Kingdom in their midst.

It wasn't until she was back at Capsule Corp, alone in her lab, that Bulma opened the box with shaky fingers and a knotted stomach - inside sat a scouter with a sky blue lens cushioned by silky red fabric that tugged at her memories, making her regret leaving all those pretty Saiyan dresses behind. The piece of technology no doubt Vegeta's answer to her personalized capsule containing his latest gravity suit. Something she was deep down itching to get her hands on for direct primary readings, long suspecting that the data the Saiyans send with the requests for updates were heavily edited and redacted. Carefully adjusting the scouter to her ear Bulma taped the side - like she had observed earth's most foreign guests do - a short hum and beep later the strange symbols she had identified months ago as the Saiyans unique system of writing flashed across the screen and after a few seconds Bulma realized the scouter was trying to establish a connection to a pre-programmed number.

Her legs suddenly feeling weak she sunk further into her chair, heart pounding loudly in her chest while she feverishly tried to decide if she actually wanted Vegeta to pick up on the other line. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Panic was spreading in her chest when faith made the decision for her, the symbols stop, followed by silence - blinking in a mix of disbelief and confusion, deep down even a few bitter drops of disappointment, Bulma realized that the call had failed. Vegeta had not picked up - an odd occurrence given that he had sent her this piece of equipment.

Carefully setting the scouter back into the box Bulma sat in contemplative silence alone in her lab, pushing stinging disappointment down with the small blossom of hope that had bloomed in her chest, before shutting off the lights and promising herself she would try again tomorrow - just once.

* * *

Grease was smeared across her cheek as Bulma tentatively adjusted a small screw and reached for a magnifying glass to better admire her handiwork on the new circuit board that would govern energy output for the plasma gun. The scientist had been at it for hours now - after having gone to bed she had dreamt of Aika, a terrible nightmare that had woken her sweaty and gasping for air, ultimately driving her back into her private lab in the early hours of the morning and dismantling the new gun in order to distract her mind.

Worry was gnawing at her inside, she had not heard from the young woman, any attempt to call her had failed and emails had gone unanswered. It was not her nature to pry, all her employees were adults capable of making their own decisions. and if said decision was to leave the company she would respect that. But, something did not sit right with Bulma about the way Aika had all but vanished.

She was contemplating getting the address from her HR department, being torn between crossing professional boundaries and soothing her own active mind - perhaps asking for a wellness check from local law enforcement instead - when commotion outside startled her out of her own thoughts. Vehement arguing could be heard, equipment being bummed into as hasty footsteps accompanied the rising noise level, Bulma could clearly hear some of her most trusted staff forbidding someone from entering, someone who was not paying any mind to what was asked of them. The scouter she had received the night before, still sitting in it's neat and pretty box, beeped once, twice before joining into the crescendo of chaos with a high-pitched warning. Signaling someone with a significant power level was right outside her doors. Her hand reaching for the partially dismantled gun in trance-like instinct when the hinges of her steel doors whined under pressure, was this what she had been so worried about? What her subconscious had been trying to warn her from? Or was it the threat the Saiyans had warned them about all along?

Stepping around the table for more cover Bulma raised the gun, clicking the circuit back into place, no time like the present to test her adjustments, taking a steady breath she almost dropped the weapon entirely as the doors to her lab finally opened and no other than King Vegeta stood on the other side, surrounded by her employees who had taken her order of "absolutely no interruptions" very seriously.

He was glorious. Tall and dark and strong as she remembered - and in terrible shape. His - no her gravity suit - torn and ripped, blood caked to the side of his temple and soot smeared across his entire form like he had been to war and barely escaped with his life.

Bulma dropped the gun on a nearby workbench, sudden worry choking her previous anxiety about this encounter, this encounter she had dreamt of, imagined over and over again in her head, as she rounded her desk, dismissing her employees with the wave of her hand, blue eyes focused on the man that made her soul burn, her throat was dry as she breathed the next words in disbelieve,

"What happened?!"

* * *

Thank you for reading.  
Thank you for your patience.  
Thank you for going on this journey with me.

PS. I am on Discord after Tumblr went down in flames. Updates usually post on AO3 a few hours before here.


	14. Through Hardship To The Stars

**I'm sorry for the emotional roller-coaster ride I haven taken you on, it's not quiet over yet. I hope this Chapter answers some of the questions you guys had and will make up for all the hurt.**  
 **Please know that Vegebul is my absolute OTP - this IS a vegebul story. I just wanted to really try something new - thank you for allowing me to do so.**

 **...without further ado, ... just buckle up.**

* * *

Blood was caked thick in his hair, smearing down his temple and running over his body and suit in a criss-cross pattern rivaling the skies of Vegetasei, the rag in her gloved hands was soaked red and the light of the infirmary suddenly seemed too bright. The Emperor of everything humanity once knew about space had not been a man of many words, her line of question about what had happened had only been answered with short, almost absent-minded replies that it had been a trap. A trap. No explanation, just the burning of his eyes into hers and Bulmas keen mind had taken over and simply taken him to here, to the infirmary, for better assessment. The short walk had been odd and awkward, it remained unclear to her just why he was here and why he was in such horrible shape, the situation tense as she could feel his eyes on here, boring into her scorchingly hot and disbelieving as if she could just dissolve before his very eyes. Like a hot iron burning into soft flesh the need to turn around and ask him why he had sent her a scouter consumed her, but she steeled her spine and kept walking.

She had almost forgotten how tall he was, how muscles spanned over thick bones just a little different, creating the odd illusion that the man here with her seemed startlingly human, while actually not being very human at all upon closer inspection. Her nerves, which had flared with the odd intrusion that had turned out to be the Saiyan King, had clammed and with nothing but time and space that had separated the two of them the bitter taste of their parting had subsided. Looking back on her departure Bulma could admit to herself that she had handled it poorly, it had been the first - and so far - the only time in her life she had outright been denied something so misapprehend within her reach, but so far from her grasp at the same time. She had been utterly unprepared for her own emotions, something that still caused her to be angry at herself when she thought about it for too long, and with no warning to prepare for this odd meeting the first few minutes of sliding her professional composure back into place had been hard. A silly irrational part inside of her wished for the days before she had known he existed, before the Saiyans came to earth before, intergalactic threats loomed on the horizon, when she had been Bulma Briefs who always managed everything with a spine of steel and a gracefully practiced smile.

Dropping the soaked cloth in the sink - she might as well get some samples of Saiyan DNA - she straightened herself, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, hand coming to rest on the flare of her hip. Nothing had changed, this was business;

"If you are not going to elaborate on what happened, can you tell me if my planet is in danger?"

At her voice his head lifted, dark eyes once again boring into her with an intensity that made her skin prickle and something else she couldn't quite place, it was a look she hadn't seen before, couldn't yet categorize in him.

"No, there is no danger". She missed his voice, so deep, like velvet over gravel.

"Then what is this about?! Why are you here?" there was an edge to her voice, she had never done well with these kinds of answers, information slipping through her fingers like liquid water she tried to cup.

Something flickered in his eyes again and suddenly he looked anywhere but her face, curling thick strong hands into the metal of the small hospital bed he was seated on, metal creaking under the pressure of his grip, his lips twitching much the same as they once had when she had first met him. Vegeta began slowly, hesitantly almost if out of spite, as if the words themselves stung his mouth;

"Revenge. This suit, the safety grid, this war, it's all for revenge" his lips curled in an odd mixture of disgust and a snarl, exposing canines long and sharp, reminding Bulma of an Ape more than anything even remotely human, "our strike back was anticipated." She nodded once, careful to keep her face neutral, having sensed the shift in his mood. If Vegeta looked like this, she did not want to see how the rest of his men looked - the ones that made it back.

"Do you need a better suit?" It was a veiled way of asking him again why he was here, it was also the only thing she could say without giving way to the anger rising steadily in her throat. His scientific department could have requested a new suit , Raditz could have had her on the holographic intercom system and underlined the urgency of a new product promptly - but quite possibly having the most powerful men in the universe sit on a gurney across from her and lie to her face about his sudden appearance made her blood boil. No man was going to ever lie to her face again, especially not this one, not after the moment of understanding they had shared.

When he didn't answer Bulma was across the room in three large strides; "Don't you dare think to take me for a fool", her index finger made contact with his chest, she didn't use much pressure but she didn't have to, the look of surprise in his eyes already told her that she had crossed all lines, that she had his full attention, " I have delivered on all agreed upon points of our planetary allegiance to your empire - I will not be strung along and used like a puppet you can feed lies and half-truth."

The scientist was not quite sure what she had been expecting from her confrontational reaction, but, for the man across from her to lean into her touch was not on the list. Seated their height difference canceled out nicely and with the unanticipated counter pressure from his upper body, his lips suddenly ghosted alarmingly close to hers. His nostrils flared nominally and she risked a quick glance at his lips, noting the plumpness of his lower lip, only to look back up and realize she had been caught, then, right in front of her scrutinizing gaze his own lashes, long and thick and dark, lowered drawing over her lips, along her jawline and up her cheekbone before finding her own blue oceans again. Kami knew she would be lying if she said she did not want to kiss him again, she was reminding herself that there were many fish in the sea - many rich and fit and available - when his lips parted, his breath featuring across her face like a soft caress.

"I…" he hesitated. Say it. Say anything. Only to close his mouth and visibly swallow.

She clicked her teeth in obvious annoyance, back on Vegetasei she had stumbled not fallen, now she was prepared.

" A maid will show you a room and ready it for you. I have a company to run".

With that she was out the door, reminding herself of all the things that remained on her to-do-list for this day. Giving up her independence, was not it.

* * *

The warm breeze felt pleasant against her overheated skin, working in the lab all day, first on the plasma gun and then on a new prototype for their hover-car anniversary edition of Capsule Corp had made sweat pour, standing here, in the midst of all the luxury her father's company had afforded her it was hard to believe that they were coming up on 40 years of family history. Adjusting her bathrobe after the scalding hot shower she had taken Bulma surveyed the garden that stretched before her, the little voice in the back of her mind whispering to her how odd it seemed that in all this peaceful scenery Vegeta was somewhere on this property. A man that reigned over countless words, some feasibly even similar to her own. A man that had appeared out of thin air months ago, and was now doing so again. Royalty as grand as humans had only ever dared to dream was on this tiny planet - which had so suddenly been catapulted into the age of space exploration and travel. It was as if her mind hand conjured him up, made him materialize on the railing beside her, so the scientist did not even flinch when he suddenly spoke;

"I came seeking your assistance", his tone bitter, laced with the resentment of his own perceived defeat, "we attacked an enemy, only to be greeted by an army of machines unknown to us. The intel of my entire Kingdom, all my advisors, it was bad. It was a trap".

Her eyes wandered over his form, he had come closer, out of the shadows the building cast late at night and into the pale light of the slowly filing moon. It was easy to see that he had taken a shower and washed thoroughly, as evidenced by the dark sweatpants and hoodie concealing the landscape of bruises and cuts she had spotted underneath the remains of her tattered suit, the Capsule Corp logo contrasting with his darker skin. Her mind elicited the long since past image of his back, the deep scars, and the empty, protected, space a collar had left there - not for the first time she wondered what unspoken truths this man carried with him, what was really at stake in this galactic struggle for revenge. Bare feet freely hung over the rail of the balcony and she allowed herself to study them for a fleeting moment, five toes - resembling human feet in their overall shape with slightly longer phalanges.

"One of the machines is in a pod at the bay".

Excitement pooled in the pit of her stomach - an invention so mighty it made the Saiyans struggle had been delivered right to her doorstep - the potential to uncover new breakthroughs in technology and mechanical engineering were all but calling her name, but the man across from here wasn't the only one with a poker face. "You have an entire scientific department at your disposal, the man and woman under you are capable - why come here?"

"You are smarter and faster". His voice matter of fact, his eyes still focused on the stars in the sky, she followed his line of sight with her own eyes, when he spoke again, much less self-assured this time around and Bulma wasn't sure if he had meant to say it at all. "I also wanted to see you again".

The sudden admission made her eyes snap back to his face only to find that he was already watching here, while her silly young heart fluttered at the idea of everything romantic - including setting out to find the dragon balls at 16 to wish for a perfect boyfriend - her logical mind and experience knew better. Their single kiss replayed in her mind as the moon made Vegeta's eyes glow in a matter so alien it made her lizard brain scream at her to run for cover, with the unexpected surge of adrenaline came the memory of a faceless woman adorned in armor and royal jewels - the woman all Saiyans had praised as their future Queen.

"What would your Wife say if she knew you talked like that?" her tone more cutting than she had intended.

His eyebrows rose in genuine confusion, "What is a Wife?"

"A woman with whom you spend your life with, have kids, reign over your people..you know" Bulma waved her hand in an absent-minded manner as if to indicate that both of their species societies valued partnership and placed expectations upon it.

"A mate" her snorted, as the word left his lips dripping with ill-concealed displeasure, his tail sliced through the air with what she recognized as agitation and Bulma could not tell if it was in humor or resentment at her change of topic and the misunderstanding in terminology - her galactic standard was improving each time she interacted with the Saiyans - which was increasing daily - but she still was not entirely fluent. After a short moment he continued, "she is not my mate. Not my Wife. She had holds no power of opinion outside the child we will share."

At his words her heart squeezed in her chest, she had known of course, was no fool that didn't remember the excited chatter of his kinsmen in the laboratory, but an unwelcome lump formed in the back of her throat, and coiling surprisingly tight in her stomach was also sudden anger at his casual dismissal of the woman he just described as the mother of his child, "I think I have heard enough, t-.."

The scientist was cut off effectively when the Saiyan King caught the wrist of her hand pointing an accusatory finger at him, eyes focused on a distant spot just over her shoulder, the next words appeared to almost cause him physical pain the way his jaw worked and eyebrow twitched.

"You told me once that this could be an alliance were no one had to crumble", Bulma nodded remembering the warm night on the balcony of his palace (ch.7) "My mother is dead, I have no siblings and my father is a traitor that sold us all - this was not an alliance I had the luxury of choosing. I needed a child, for my people and the line of my house, it was logical and necessary, not wanted. Not then, not now."

For a second it was as if they both were back in the expansive laboratories on Vegetasei, or perhaps even his private rock pool with the breathtaking views over the city, just two people struggling with the burden of duty and leadership. Her entire life people had warned her, ever since she was a child, that the top would be lonely - and for the longest time Bulma didn't mind, a luxury sports-car had two seats while a bus had fifty - she always knew where she wanted to be. It was not the bus. Her entire life she had been okay with that, she had been okay with leaving Vegetasei to focus on the growth of her own empire resting assured in the knowledge that Capsule Corp had direct line to the most powerful men she had ever met and that it was her who was going to be humanities herald into space travel. Her failed relationship with Yamcha had taught her the importance of loving herself, of recognizing a man for whom she would not be a priority because his life was consumed by other things - in Yamchas case fame and flirty girls, in the case of the Saiyan King duty to his people. She would never be second, she had promised herself that.

Vegeta had never been a man of many words so when he once again broke the silence, startling her out of her internal struggle, Bulma was surprised to realize that he was talking about the stars, his face once again turned skyward, the moon making his dark irises glow in a supernatural way but her thirst for knowledge prevailed. With apt fascination she listened to him retell the stories of his ancestors, marveling at the millennia of well-preserved belief-systems that his race had, wondering how two species so different yet so alike evolved in different corners of the universe at vastly different points in time. The Saiyans believed they came from the stars, spending countless years edging their stories first into stone and paper before breaking technological barriers and returning to the stars that had created them. A pillar of their culture running so deep that their dead were burned, their ki and spirits rising with the flames to be carried back to the skies that always gave them purpose. Briefly, she wondered what it felt like to see the stars and be home, suddenly envying a man she barely knew for being the ruler of people so rich in culture and so faithful in their beliefs - at the same time she realized that to these very people she would always be an outsider, an alien.

It stung, amongst her own people she was often the odd one out. Too smart for most, to pretty to have been blessed with this much neural firing power and too rich for any men to impress her. Her entire childhood she had struggled to belong, to be part - it had made her who she was. A winner, a shark in business. But deep down, the wish to belong, to be part, remained.

It was a simple silly impulse as she stepped forward, trying to satisfy the unwelcome urge to belong, trying to prove to herself that the kiss she remembered was just that, an over-embellished memory, his face turning towards her, startled by her sudden movement, and she pressed her lips against his. A microsecond of hesitation later large hands tangled in her hair, a tongue so familiar in shape and yet so foreign in texture glided over her lips requesting entrance to her own mouth.

It was not like the memory. It was better.

Vegeta radiated heat like no human could, his taste spicy and mysterious and she pressed closer to his form, appreciating how wide his neck was and feeling the odd texture of his hair against her hand in his neck. It wasn't until the peculiar sensation of a soft fury appendage winding around her tight caught her off guard that she pulled her lips away from his. Resting their foreheads together Bulma took a few deep calming breaths for composure before blinking up through her lashes to find Vegeta already looking at her.

" You are a smart man, your majesty - I won't be second, not in business and not in my life".

The gentle swirl of air as she walked away, head high and proud, told her that Vegeta had taken off into the air.

* * *

She was in one of the back rooms of the docking bay before the sun had fully risen, what Vegeta had described as a machine turned out to be an android. A remarkable feat of technology so close in resemblance to a human, or Saiyan for that matter, that Bulma had at first assumed she was looking at a well-preserved corpse. Underneath the almost life-like artificial skin was a jungle of wires crisscrossing in erratic patterns that even made her well-trained eye pause - before her heart almost leaped out of her chest at the challenge. Docile and for all sense and purposes dead on the table the android did not look particularly strong or frightening and she couldn't wait to get her hands on the power-core if it meant learning how something so average-size could give someone as powerful as Vegeta trouble.

It was the sound of heavy boots that brought her out of her own thoughts, looking up she was only mildly surprised to see the King himself in the doorway. Dressed head to toe in the royal armor he had worn when she had first met him, all signs of the hardships of the past few days, his battle and injuries, vanished from his physical appearance - like it never even happened. The dark material of his suit in stark contrast with the pristine white of her lab coat, and soft coral blouse underneath. Bulma had successfully avoided thinking too much about the kiss they had shared the night before - it couldn't mean anything. They were too different, the people they had to lead dependent on them too much. And she deserved better.

His eyes remained stoic, focused on the android , and when he spoke his tone was to the point and stern - the man she had interacted with in the past 24 hours was gone again, sealed away behind a wall so imposing and tall she wasn't sure if anyone would ever be able to find a door.

"I formally request that you return to Vegetasei. I need more equipment, better equipment. Fast".

Her hand came to rest on her hip, lips pursed; "I can't. Capsule Corp has a big upcoming anniversary celebration - I am needed her. My Team there, on-site, is more than capable."

"You swore allegiance to m-.."

"And I am delivering!" she cut him off, anger boiling in her stomach, his eyes finally found hers," all the capsules you requested are steadily on time, my team works on the gravity suit on regular basis, I work on the gravity suit on regular basis! Anything Raditz throws my way, I work on too!". Her hand stung when Bulma angrily hit her closed fist against the metal table that separated them both.

"What do you want?", exasperation was thick in his voice.

"Excuse me?!"

"It was you who said that this was a business deal, and everything is negotiable. So, woman, name your price."

His dark eyes bore into her while her brain scrambled to make a logical and calculated decision. What did she want? Was this a deal she wanted to make? She already had an in at his scientific department. Her fingers brushed against the android, still laying on the table, a machine with so much power in its core it could make a Saiyan struggle - an entire space fearing race of strong warriors. That's when it clicked - space.

"I want a ship - a spaceship. To examine and use as I please". Capsule Corp would take Humanity to space.

He laughed, a disingenuous exhausted laugh, before leveling her with a cool gaze "No".

She mimicked his gesture of crossing her arms over her chest and turning her nose up just a little, with assured steps she rounded the table, clapping her hands at her underlings in the hallway to pack up the new precious cargo because she was done here. The clicking of her heels on the polished floors came to a stop when his hand shot out and grabbed a hold of her arm as she passed him - not hard, not restraining - but enough to catch her attention.

His eyes were much softer this close, "a pod, you can have a pod" he offered in return, still holding her loosely around the arm. She wondered distantly if his own flesh, hidden underneath the foreign material of his gloves tingled just like her own. Holding his gaze for a few long heartbeats she waited, fighting her desire to glance at his lips, hoping to see him squirm instead, but Vegeta was an opponent worthy of her own caliber. An alliance where no one has to crumble.

"A pod - and three months to finish my own projects".

His lip twitched for a split second and then he nodded, releasing her immediately and turning on his heels, the tip of a soft tail ghosting her wrist, cape billowing behind him as he strode down the hall towards the main part of the docking-bay, Saiyans left and right bowing their heads and beating their fists against the breastplates of their armors before falling into step behind him. The last she saw of him was the King skipping the elevator in the beehive-like structure that housed the pods, lifting into the air effortlessly before disappearing from her field of view. She could have sworn she saw dark eyes peek at her from his peripheral just moments before the interior structure of the building concealed him.

The scouter and their kiss stretching unanswered between them.

* * *

The suns were hot in the afternoon sky when she left the docking-bay on Vegetasei 3 months and 2 weeks later - the shuttle taking her towards the sprawling city of the Capital, blueprints, capsules and the secret of the androids neatly tucked away on her person. When she had woken from stasis this time around she had found herself floating in space, gazing at a glowing red marble protected by her planetary-shield grit-system. Pride had bloomed in her chest - it seemed like War was indeed on the horizon, and for a split second she had felt worried that perhaps she had given the enemy too much time - Bulma had dismissed the thought as soon as it had occurred to her. With her help, they would be ready for anything - anyone.

On earth she had left the tabloids, drooling over her new romance with the son of a wealthy clothing brand mogul- something she regretted to admit she was already growing bored of. It had never sat well with Bulma when man agreed with her too easily - alleged cheating aside - it had been Yamcha's downfall, going from dangerous and rouged to spoiled lab-dog over the years - she wanted excitement and challenge! Perhaps the very reason why she pushed the deep-seated sting of Vegetas possible fatherhood as far from her mind as she could. That's what people did, after all, they grew up, possibly lead others and had children - even on the other side of the universe.

The suns were just beginning to set when the shuttle reached her destination, Raditz had checked in briefly during her landing to inform her that a servant would be waiting for her to show her to her rooms and escort her to the laboratory first thing in the morning. When her expensive designer flats hit the red stone of the royal grounds she was indeed greeted by a woman with pale pink skin, her escort lead her through the halls of the palace, bustling with life even in the early evening - and Bulma was just contemplating how mad his Royal Highness would get were she to dismantle the shower in order to once and for all unveil the secrets on how it worked - when the mood of the crowd changed. It was so subtle, at first she did not even notice it, a scouter ringing here and there, became a few more and then a few more, till a whispering among the crowd turned into a hectic noise level, amidst in the all the turmoil Bulma spotted Nappa just down the hall, making a sharp turn and going from a jog to a full on sprint.

Anxiety knotted in her stomach, the General had never been far from the King, one glance at her oblivious guide a few steps ahead of her and Bulma broke away into the crowd, following Nappa down the impressive winding hallways of the Palace. Despite taking large stride she was having a hard time just keeping the dominating man in sight, but they were getting closer as the voices rose around her, along with the rank of the armor that was being worn. Saiyans rushing to and from rooms, making frustration build thick as she couldn't understand their sacred language.

Nappa was just coming to a stop in front of an impressive set of doors, much grander than the doors that she had seen as the entryway to Vegeta's royal bath when she heard a sliver of galactic standard amongst the crowd of moving people. She barely managed to hide behind a thick column opposite the regal doors, staying out of the Generals field of view - her low Ki likely keeping her concealed amongst the much higher, and possibly erratic, Ki of the surrounding Saiyans - heart beating uncomfortably hard and fast against her rib-cage as blood and panic rushed in her ears. The towering man pulled the doors open, her suddenly frantic mind slowing everything to slow motion when she caught a glimpse of what had the Palace in uproar.

Covering her mouth with both hands to keep a heartbroken sob from giving her away she couldn't fight the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

* * *

Thank you for reading.  
Everything will be answered in the next Chapter.


	15. Fearless Child, Broken Boy

_**TRIGGER WARNING!**_

 _ **Seriously though - HUGE freaking trigger warning! If there are things that easily upset you don't read.**_  
 _ **Additionally please keep in mind this is solely FICTIONAL**_.

* * *

The woman on the polished floors of the palace had the thickest and glossiest of hair that Bulma had ever seen, it cascaded in long strands around her face and shoulders, grazing the air inches from the expensive cold floors - it's captivating allure only a fractured moment in time as all she could focus on was the gut-wrenching sounds coming from her mouth. The cries and their echoes rising with the grand pillars of the room in spiraling red, reaching for a ceiling as vast as the sky itself - it's beauty drowned in the sea of voices from the servants surrounding her, trying desperately to separate her from something the thick curtain of hair was concealing from Bulmas view.

Seconds seemed to stretch into eternity as the Saiyan woman finally lifted her face, long before she had laid eyes upon her face Bulma had known, instinctively, in the deepest depth of her soul that she could only be the mother of Vegeta's child, her face symmetrical, her skin deep and rich in color like his own, her brows defined, her cheekbones high. She was beautiful. Not even the gut-wrenching screams that were coming from her very being, contorting her face in agony and anguish, seeming to emanate from her very soul could take away from a natural beauty one had to be born with.

Every hair on her body stood on end, Bulma had seen pain before in her life, horrific experimental accidents and everyday mishappenings, but never before soul-deep anguish, never before pain that would span a lifetime, that would survive the test of time. Pain that transcended into the souls of others and touched them to their core until the only thing they felt was suffering as well. The movements of a servant redirected her eyes to the small bundle on the floor, the cause for the commotion and the woman's misery settling deep into her bones, making a home there and coating her very essence thick with guilt. In deep dark moments, she had wished nothing but unhappiness to her - her, the faceless woman born to a world she did not know, the faceless woman who's emotions she never considered, who's possible pain she never contemplated- Bulma had wished for her to not exist, dreamed of a life in which this never was - the pain her selfish wishes in dark moments caused seemed to drain the air from her lungs.

The child, now tightly clutched against the female's chest was no more than a few weeks old, a thick head of dark hair, so much like his fathers, while servants tried futilely to entangle her from the small limb body. Nappa's impressive frame shifted into, and through, her field of view like a movie, like an out of body experience, and when Bulma once again saw the room Vegeta had appeared, bare hands and hastily discarded armor while his face was devoid of any emotion. His large hand came to rest on one pitifully shaking shoulder, and with the snarling command of his voice the servants scrambled, leaving behind a world of hurt dressed in royal gowns so fine her mother would have been jealous, and a man whose face was so empty that for a fleeting moment Bulma wondered if pain so brutal it left you numb and void, incapable of feeling anything including pain itself, could exist.

A shiver ran up her spine, as the impressive double doors neared their meeting point, restricting her field of view inch by inch, blue meet black across the space that separated them. No emotion flickering in their dark depth as the man that had caught her witnessing his presumably deepest private moment observed her unblinking as the doors sealed him within, along with the cries of anguish for a woman she no longer envied.

* * *

The servants had backed away in reference once Vegeta had entered the room, they disappeared like scattering insects when he glared at them for more privacy. Nappa had felt the sharp drop in Ki just moments before his scouter hard alerted him to the news - he was not even sure what to do himself, honed in the art of war and destruction, of ruthlessness and no mercy, but unprepared for the cries of torment emitting from Azoya. A mere shadow on the cold ground, clinging desperately to a cub that not even a moon cycle ago personified the future of the Saiyans. A cub with hair as dark as his mothers and a power level so staggering that the natural birth she had insisted on had almost killed her.

They had all known the risk, he himself especially, it was dangerous caring a saiyan cub to term, fluctuating Ki levels in the unborn could interfere with the mothers, birth was a dangerous and grueling process - he remembered how hard Aubera had fought to give her son life - but endless nights and sun rises in the womb also meant that the Ki of mother and cub could intertwine closely. In some instances, like this, too closely. Being separated from the mother would cause the cubs Ki to drop, freefall so low so quickly with no mental fail-safes in place to guard their own life as the essence of it drained to zero.

Chayas words from months before rung in his ear like bitter betrayal - the strength of a man laid in his willingness to surrender - Nappa had genuinely believed that his Kings surrender to an heir, the growing acceptance and respect of a young woman worthy of being called his equal in his life, would make him stronger. Instead, the price he had paid against his own will now demand an even greater sacrifice. A son without a name, gone from the mortal real before his name-day, gone before being old enough to receive the mark of royalty on his chest that his fathers Ki would forever leave on his skin - disqualifying him to be laid to rest like a royal. He would not join his grandmother at the gate of stars at the mountain, nor wait there for his father to join him numberless sun cycles later.

Nappa dared to glance from the sobbing woman to the man behind her, the young boy he had raised, face as expressionless as it used to be just moments before a purge - drawing himself back into a well-protected fortress no one dared to ever reach. Vegeta was in pain. A man that had given first his birthright, then his freedom and his own desires now gave a cub that had been forced upon him by the very people he had sacrificed everything for. The Kings respect for Azoya ran deep, respecting her as the warrior she was and the woman that wore the pain of her lot in life with dignity, but the General knew that there was a certain someone that had monopolized Vegetas interest beyond all others.

He was no fool. Nappa knew that his sovereign had been to see the spit-fire from earth after their disastrous battle and defeat on Sinope. The small squad that had joined him on his detoured pit-stop before arriving back on Vegetasei had remained silent - guarding the destination of their stop with iron-clad secrecy, but Nappa knew. Being reminded of his own mortality - super saiyan be dammed - and being forced into all the wrong choices Vegeta had sought the only person in this entire Universe he could not have. The only gods' damn person he had made a connection with. For the first time since he could remember Nappa wished for the power to change the rules of their people. He had commanded armies, seen entire planets shake at their might and quiver in fear, yet here, in the face of true pain, he was powerless.

* * *

His knuckles were bruised, skin torn and bloody, sweat clinging to his skin as thickly as the grim that bore witness to the rampage he had unleashed in the badlands, far far away from the confining walls of the Capital. His ears were ringing, balance unsteady but he would take it over the ringing of Azoyas screams any day. Her pain had charred a part of his soul he had not even noticed had been left unprotected, searing it so thoroughly he still felt like his insides burned like they would burn forever. The deprivation of never truly getting to know someone that had literally been a part of him stung in a treacherous way that radiated from his spine into his lungs, spreading like wildfire in every element that composed his being till all he was able to do was destroy and eradicate. Till nearly every drop of Ki had been spent, till his Super Saiyan transformation slipped from his reach and his limbs became heavy in a manner not even the gravity suit could achieve.

Azoya was unconscious, watched and cared for in the medical wing of his Palace, her Ki had been a mere flicker after the hysteria of loss and the jarring absence of the very energy she had been bonded to so closely. Too closely.

He hated himself for being here, for being so weak, for returning to everything that started this mess which his life had become in the first place - beyond destruction and carnage he had never learned to deal with emotions. Saiyans did not talk about emotions, anything that did not pertain to battle and power was a subject seldom breached, leaving him grasping for a foundation on which to process the loss he had suffered. Distantly he recalled how displeased his father had been at times, blaming his emotional struggling on Vegeta's own mother - she had carried him to term and nurtured a connection that was never established in standard incubation pods. It had taken harsh lessons to beat attachment out of him - it was how he had survived. It was how he had signed his own hellish place in this dilemma when he crossed boundaries he knew he should never have.

Pristine white sheets covered creamy skin, hair so blue it paid homage to the world of her birth, soft lashes resting against her cheeks as she slumbered oblivious to his turmoil - and his presence. He shouldn't be here. Not now. Not ever. It was weak. He was weak.

He had been there when his son had been born. It was par for his people that the birth of a cub was only to be shared between its parents. During the moments when Azoya had fought to give him his son, standing like expected of a warrior like her, his hand steadying her Vegeta had allowed himself the glimmer of hope that maybe he could press on, live the life demanded of him and find solace in the fact that the woman he truly cared for knew about his silly sentiment. And in some twisted turn of faith seemed to return it.

Now standing above her slumbering from he had to confess to himself that it would have never been enough. That a life or pretending would have never even scratched the surface, would have left nothing but "what ifs" in his wake.

She had been there. She had seen him. Bulma Briefs of Earth had seen him, the man he was underneath everything the stars had destined him to be, long before he had spotted her, hiding behind the thick columns of his palace, bearing witness to his empires greatest loss, and despite everything that the had tried to deny her, deny himself, she had shed tears for him - worn her weakness on her sleeve for everyone to see.

He shouldn't be here. Wasn't even sure what he wanted from her, couldn't think of anything to say, of anything to ask for to make the turmoil of his emotions stop sucking him into a deep and dark gurgling void from which he seemed unable to break free. It was a dangerous sentiment, being here without a plan, with his emotions guiding him, like they had when he allowed these shambles to unravel and entangle him. He fought desperately with his own body, urging himself to turn around, leave the woman slumbering in peaceful oblivion that he himself was disallowed from ever knowing. It was madness, it was weakness. His father would be rolling in his grave if he saw the fool his only son was making of himself.

Straightening his spine, he risked one last glance, wanting to imprint her image before he took his leave, only to freeze when bright blue eyes stared at him, rooting him to the expensive polished floors.

* * *

The suns had longed dipped low beyond the mountains, bringing heat and light to the other side of the planet and the provinces most remote from the Capital and its sprawling high-rises, the stars so bright in the sky they cast faint shadows as he watched over the grounds with bored irritation, the floor to ceiling window of the communications rooms whispering with the promise of life and fun beyond the walls of this palace.

But he was stuck babysitting the intergalactic communications board for a sector of the universe that hardly reach out in the first place - a punishment for a party that had gotten too rowdy. Raditz had hoped that being denied the glory of battle - which had turned into a huge disaster - would quell Vegetas ire and release him from forced duties, but it seemed as if his sovereign had different plans. This was his third-night watching time tick by, missing out on the night-life beyond the imposing walls of the place he now called home - usually, Raditz would push the envelope a little, maybe skip out early, but after what had transpired earlier today he dare not risk it. Never having been particularly good with words there was not much he knew how to say anyhow.

They had been beaten in battle, lost the future of their race and the very woman the King vehemently denied any and all attraction to had landed on this planet just hours earlier. Vegeta was having a rough moon cycle - and Raditz hated having to be tanked in the medical bay for insubordination and Vegetas explosive temper going off like a plasma gun with a loose trigger- not to mention that perhaps his King had saved his life by grounding him from the mission they had believed would eliminate the Kolds once and for all.

Raditz loved the fight like any good Saiyan - in his service under Frieza he had wished for death in battle more times than he cared to remember, had thrown himself into conflict with little regard for his own life in the hope for glory in what came after. That all changed. After Vegeta ascended the legend he had been born to be a ratty small room with no furnishings and two companions became a sprawling palace, food and training grounds became a part of everyday life, just like the women that flocked to his side, the servants that cared for his armor and health, the luxurious products of hygiene and the steep rise of credits at his disposal. Life was good. Very good. Raditz had no plans to die anytime soon.

Lost in his late-night musing he almost didn't catch the faint blinking of the console, alerting him to an incoming communication. Checking the origin of this late night caller Raditz was more than surprised to spot the blinking galactic standard term for earth flash across his display - earthlings almost never sought contact with the palace directly, everything was handled on sight by capable overseers, the only puny being with enough pull to ring right in was here - presumably peacefully slumbering in one of the many rooms.

The Saiyan hesitated only a short second, there was no possible way that news about the events of the early evening had already gotten out, whoever was hailing them had to be doing so on different grounds.

The screen flickered once as it came to life, showing the all too familiar board-room of capsule corp that the woman always used when she had a long list of things she would not put up with - this time around the face that greeted him first was her father. He only knew who the old man was because Bulma had made it a point to introduce him - once - in the very beginning of this odd allegiance. What truly caught Raditz attention though was not the nervous chuckle and overwhelmed face of the old man with thick facial hair, but the man just behind him.

Dark hair and round brown eyes, the shape of his nose, all tugging at this senses of faint familiarity, the masculine version - albeit older - of Aikas soft feminine facial structure. Possibly her father - holding a young infant with a dark shock of black hair that send tingles of gripping fear and suspicion down his spine. His hand reaching for a chair to steady himself into a seated position as his eyes fell on a brown tail curling and uncurling curiously as dark eyes studied his image on the screen.

* * *

As always - thank you for reading & going on this journey with me.  
I appreciate all of you.


	16. Who we were told to be

It was quiet - too quiet. He remembered the last day the docking bay had been this soundless like it was just yesterday. A day etched into his mind like hot iron, vivid and gripping no matter how many years washed against the edges of this particular memory. Nappa had been much younger then, a man in his prime, the newly appointed General of the Saiyan forces - he should have been furious to have been sent to leave his post and watch over a child - but the small boy had been her child. He still was. So Nappa had stood in the empty docking bay with a boy of low birth and the child that was going to save their race. A child that was prophesied to change their course of history and achieve what no Saiyan in recorded history had achieved before; ascending a legend.

Though if he was being honest with himself, Nappa knew that it wasn't the day of their departure with Frieza that festered like an old wound, but the day before that fateful event - a day he had spent in the royal gardens with Aubera and her son. At the shores of the lake and the winding, neatly trimmed walkways, a day of reporting to the Queen the progress her son was making in training and a day of standing just a little too close for protocol. It had been the last day he had ever seen her and the last night he spent on the world of his birth before returning countless sun cycles later with a new King.

Today was free of such burdens. No tyrant to steal their Prince, no King to dishonor his Queen, no servitude forced upon the Saiyan race. No, today was different. The bay was empty because today Nappa wielded enough power to demand it so, because he thought it unwise to pick up the bastard of the King's closest confidant in the middle of a busy day.

The docking window blinked once, signaling that the docking sequence had been initiated and the pod was set to breach the atmosphere soon. He shifted on his feet - Saiyans bred true. No matter the outward physical appearance, Saiyans' genetics would grace any child born to an alien with the abilities of a full-blooded specimen. Which had long resulted in the strict rules that a Saiyan was only ever to mate with another Saiyan. Dark hair dark, dark eyes and brown tails - the hallmark of a Saiyan that was not only genetically but also phenotypically accepted - and frankly the General had no idea what colorful little gimmicks the human mother could have gifted the cub with. Just days after the death of the crowns only heir this was the last kind of crisis he needed. Raditz was still in the healing tank - so there was no asking for clarification, and he kicked himself that he had not thought to inquire before the longhaired fool had faced his punishment.

The docking window blinked twice, signaling that the pod was minutes away from docking and undergoing proper sanitation procedures. For a moment Nappa had thought Vegeta was going to murder Raditz - who had been nothing more than a bloody heap of bones on the expensive polished floors. The King's anger was usually as flaring, loud and venomous as it was precise - he vividly remembered a large plethora of hotheaded tantrums the young Prince had thrown while growing up - not this time around - this time around it had been quiet, deadly, almost impassive. For a moment Nappa had believed that Vegeta had not even heard Raditz, but then the King had moved faster than his eyes could follow and the circuits of Nappas scouter had fizzled out with a silent hum as the first bones snapped. The General had felt something he had not felt in years, an unpleasant all too familiar feeling creeping up his neck, taking hold of his senses at the base of his skull and spreading like wildfire throughout his synapsis; omnipotent strength concealed by a paper-thin seal.

The docking bay window rumbled, indicating that the pod had arrived and was in the process to rotate into its final arrival position. The entire commute to the docking bay the General had found himself re-contemplating the power Vegeta gained by the grace of the earthlings' inventions. Bulma Briefs was frail, she was short and loud, her bones fragile and her attitude nerve grading. Her Capsules were useful - no doubt giving them an edge when it came to transporting equipment and shipments over long intergalactic distances, but it was the immeasurable gains Vegeta made with the invention of a silly little suit that gave Nappa pause. In the hands of Frieza, Bulma Briefs would have been his most devastating weapon. In the presence of his King, he had thought her his greatest distraction - perhaps he needed to reconsider.

As he stood in the empty docking bay, a lifetime after that fateful day of boarding the pods to Frieza's ships for what felt like a career of endless servitude, with nothing but the armor on his back and a prince turned slave destined to be his King and Savior - Napa considered that perhaps nothing in Vegeta's life was meant to be conventionally Saiyan.

* * *

The glass was pristine - no fingerprints, no smudges, not even the residual smell of someone once standing too, their breath condensing against the glass and leaving traces of themselves behind. Solitude reigned here above all else. An odd concept considering the past few days, the noise and chatter that was permeating all of the Palace - there was no hiding the Kingdoms' greatest loss, the empires - once again - uncertain future and the chaos that came with it. Then air had been thick when he had entered the control room this morning, the conversations had ceased among his counsel, their eyes had been uncertain - torn between voicing what they all knew had happened or moving on like there was no loss- for a cub without a name could never journey back to the stars in fire and smoke. His peoples' rituals forbade it.

The unwavering and awkward gazes of his counsel, his advisors, and military men and their isolating silence had wrapped around his neck like a long-forgotten yoke, Freiza was dead, he had been for a long time, but the walls that had kept Vegeta alive had never degraded. Pride never crumbled. With sure steps he had taken his seat at the end of the table, surveyed them one by one, letting his gaze linger on Azoya's father, cold and calculating, daring them to speak what hung inferred in the suffocating silence, reminding them all that there would be no doubting his power - no infringing on his reign.

As the meeting grew long, stretching over the morning and midday his temper grew shorter, the treachery and subsequent battle of Sinope had delivered a hard blow to the Saiyan forces - the Colds had been lost in the void of space. The promise of revenge slipping through his fingers like water. One of his men capturing the mistakenly trusted source was the slim silver lining of the disaster, the deserter was rotting in a cage on a sorry excuse of a mudball - the gods of Vegetasei help him for when the Vegeta would finally make it there - he would tear him limb to limb. The promise of warm hot iron-rich liquid splattering the inside of a cell was a thought that had gotten Vegeta past the calamitous defeat and the resulting hit his ego had taken. The counsels' resistance to letting him leave the planet after the unspoken events of the previous night trapping him in a golden cage. The duty to his people enslaving him more effectively than Frieza's rule ever could.

As a child he had lost his home, his mother and his people - with the sliver of hope to grow powerful enough to change the course of history and emerge the savior he had been destined to be, returning to most that he had once thought lost. At the height of his power, the height of his reign, the embodiment of his prime, he had lost again - this time there was no hidden secret he could unlock, nothing he could attain to re-write the events of the past days - so Vegeta did the only thing he knew how to do, he pushed forward against all odds, focused on his training, the strategies of war and finding the remains of the Cold forces to pay them back tenfold for everything they had dared to ever steal from him.

Solitude. She had requested it, explained to his director of development and research in clear clipped words that she did her best work alone - not isolated, but alone. Solitude - a request he had granted. The gravity suit had become his daily companion and the request for a private lab was too trivial a matter to strain an already tense intergalactic relationship.

Blue hair tied in a messy ponytail she had not noticed him yet, standing behind the thick pristine glass watching her from his vantage point of the gallery, letting the morning and past few sunrises drift past the overworked eye of his mind. Hidden from her gaze Vegeta allowed his eyes to linger, follow the contours of her coveralls, loosely tied around her hips, even from afar her waist seemed impossibly small, almost reflexively his tail tightened over his own narrow hips, remembering what it had felt like when he had pinned her to the walls of his palace the first time she had ever come to Vegetasei. She was frail, delicate. The machines her mind created, however, were not- what Bulma Briefs lacked in physical prowess she created, breathing life into inanimate objects and materials like a goddess of creation- perhaps even War. She didn't halt around him, she never faltered. In the face of absolute surrender to his rule, she dared to challenge.

Perhaps she was a rather messy goddess. The spotless glass was the only barrier keeping her mess contained, tools and equipment scattered all over the expansive lab, the pod she had requested stripped down to its bare wires in one corner, tables and floors covered with gadgets and parts he didn't recognize, dirt smeared across her cheek and wild numbers and calculations were scribbled on once immaculate walls. His eyes lingered. Contemplating if the glass was keeping her chaos contained, or sheltering her from his own. Vegeta shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, willing his traitorous body to move - he had avoided her since he had shown up in her bedroom unannounced. Keeping his distance from her -one of the few things in his life he seemed to have the power to be able to avoid - yet the only that his mind kept being drawn to, like a thirsting man to water. Throughout the past few days, she had requested multiple audiences with him, and he had denied them all. Shame over his display of weakness etched into his mind like a festering wound, leaving a sour taste in his mouth he all too gladly tried to forget. But Raditz's son had arrived - looking like the spitting image of his father - who was still blowing bubbles in a tank - and something told Vegeta that the news of the child and the passing of its mother was something Bulma Briefs ought to hear from him.

The base of his tail prickled at her closeness, his heartbeat like a war-drum ready for the first cry of battle itching for her clever mouth to challenge him - all the while his mind screamed at him, demanded he leave the gallery and the dangerous dance he entertained with her.

A nagging sense of foreboding he hadn't been quite able to shake since the battle of Sinope, or the death of his heir, spread through him as Vegeta rode the glass-encased elevator to the main level the woman was working on. The last time there had been this much turmoil and chaos within the walls of the Saiyan palace was before the arrival of Frieza - before being thrown into servitude against his birthright, before the events that spiraled out of his control causing him to end up right here and now - with a woman so delicate and alien she should never have existed in his life.

By the time she finally noticed his presence he was close enough to kill her with his bare hands - her senses were laughable - and he was unprepared for the plasma gun that sat against his breastplate with a heavy thud. Maybe not quite as oblivious as he had thought. For a fraction of a second, her blue eyes were wild - he wondered if her life felt as chaotic and beyond her control as his before he decidedly stamped the sentiment down, he could not, would not do this again - but the instant she recognized him her features softened. The heavy barrel of the gun dragging down the front of his breastplate before she places it on the table next to her - the news he has come to tell her are on the tip of his tongue.

Raditz fathered a child with the human named Akia. She did not survive the birth and the child arrived on Vegetasei earlier today.

"Kami! You scared me Vegeta! I almost blew your head off" adrenaline masked as poorly concealed anger thick in her voice, blue eyes blazing like the wildfire she is, before she catches herself, reverting to professionalism "Please make yourself known next time" her features set in determination, he isn't the only one with pride, "the Emperor's safety is important to me".

Venom coats his own voice "It isn't my fault that your senses are severely lacking Woman!", nobody speaks to him like that. The air between them was thick and anger was rising in his chest, anger at himself that he hesitated, his mind screaming at him that there was no other reason to see her. He was here to tell her the facts and move on - treat this like the strictly planetary alliance that it was. He was no weakling spoiling the fruits of his labor, the height of his power, the glory of his crown on meaningless pleasures or women that weren't his. His treacherous mind reminded him of the harem full of devoted females at the other side of the palace, the flocks of young women hoping to have their chance after the loss of his heir.

Bulma Briefs of Earth. The only woman that wasn't his - solely by the rules of his people he needed to embody.

Being the loudmouthed rebellious creature she was Bulma filled the silence, making the words die in his mouth as she drags schematics over the table, mistaking his presence as a routine visit to check on her progress, her professionalism slipping in the face of her genius mind bubbling over, pulling him closer by his wrist to show him what else her clever mind had conjured up. Beneath the material of the suit his wrist burn where she had touched him - nobody touched him that freely - and as she explained her idea for training bots Vegeta took the time to study her profile - her voice was too cheery, her ice-cold demeanor abandoned too quickly and after the initial eye contact she did her damndest to avoid looking at him directly - the realization hit him square in the chest. Like his counsel, his advisors and his generals she wasn't sure what to say - she only masked it better.

He clicked his teeth, annoyance spurring him forward, his voice was harsh when Vegeta addressed her, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence, reminding himself to stick to the facts " Woman!"

Blue eyes immediately snap to him - he has to give her credit, unlike his men she held his gaze - and unlike his men, she once again couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut, or her hands off him. She steps closer, her eyes suddenly too soft, her smile too real and full of emotions.

"We can talk about what happened" she bites her lip voice assuden, more temperate, silence hanging between them as she follows the contours of his face as if she was seeing him for the first time before she pushes forward "but I don't think you want to talk". Her blue eyes find his own again and study him intently, he narrows his eyes - daring her to look away - he had crossed his arms over his chest on reflex alone, not sure what was holding him back from delivering the news, not sure what he was even doing here, alone in a laboratory with a woman he should be staying away from.

Her hand feels feather soft against his crossed forearms, and Vegeta wonders what happened to his carefully crafted life from just a few moon cycles ago. He would tell her tomorrow.

* * *

She had been surprised when he had wandered into her laboratory a few weeks prior, she was even more surprised to find that she liked his presence - given their strained and complicated social relationship. After arriving on Vegetasei, after their fateful encounter, after his unimaginable loss, she had locked herself away in a state of the art laboratory and done nothing but create and build. The scientist had torn the promised pod apart - the primary reason some of Capsule Corps. biggest customers and investors had let her leave in the first place - to return with a new stream of invention and revenue; space travel.

She had studied every little detail, made notes upon notes and ran countless simulations on the Interactive Planetary System. Bulma Briefs was going to crack the code - she was going to show them all what she was truly capable of. She was going to step out of her fathers' shadow once and for all.

After checking on her progress with snipped words and tension Vegeta returned two days later, demanding more gravitational force behind the gravity suit, faster progress on the bots, more, more more.

The King was never asking - but always demanding, always ruling, always in charge. She never bowed - Bulma fiercely advocated for needing more time, more access and the true - unaltered - readouts from the gravity suit. No longer suspecting that the results she received were being edited and redacted but knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was simply an additional detail on a long list of things being hidden from her. The harder she pushed the harder he pushed back - unlike everyone else in her life Vegeta didn't waiver, didn't tremble under her glares of frustration and fury, he simply raised to meet her, spurring her competitive nature forward.

His visits to her lab continued nonetheless and their relationship evolved into heated arguments and demands, challenges and deadlines only serving to mask the pressure they were both experiencing, allowing each to seek an outlet in the lie they were both creating by venting their resentments.

"Then take me to the market!" it was a demand after one of their heated exchanges, she had promised herself that she was going to find answers to what was actually at play, unfortunately her access to outside the palaces sprawling grounds was not granted - the Saiyans strict with who ventured inside the walls of their most sacred city. She knew there was a market, once a week, with vendors who sold goods from all over the galaxy - he demanded more capsules and she demanded the necessary clearance to move more freely.

His displeasure was clear on his face, brows drawn tight and his jaw tensed, she couldn't put her finger on his hesitancy to clear her for more access - this laboratory had been a request, along with countless other tools and features - he had granted them all. Bulma Briefs knew when she was close, and the way the King reacted every time she made the demand for more access it only confirmed her suspicions.

Today, however, was different, he observed her long and hard, eyes so dark they threatened to drown her before giving a nod so small she almost missed it.

"Tomorrow" he turned on his heels, striding past her shrouded in a cloud of with icy annoyance, he was already stepping into the elevator, returning to his duties, when he threw over his shoulder "wear a traditional dress - I know you have those" she did indeed. He had paid for them after all.

* * *

The fabric of her dress flowed in the soft wind of the afternoon, the gold contrasting seems all but glowing under the touch of the setting suns and Bulma vowed to herself that she was going to wear her traditional Saiyan garments more often - she felt delicate and royal in the toggery and found herself admiring the precision and skill that had gone into creating this masterpiece that fit her like a second skin.

Movement to her left startled her out of her musings and she almost did a double-take when she noticed the King - it was the first time she saw him in the clothing if his people, devoid of armor - he wore loose pants and an intricate embroidered and stitched top piece that spoke volumes of his standing in society. If Bulma had found him handsome before she now realized his true beauty - removed from armor and battle suits, from war and carnage and male prowess - he was fluid grace. His cheekbones chasting dramatic shadows in the light of the setting suns. Kami help her.

She straightened her spin - her dress was stunning - she lifted her chin, reminder herself of who she was, she was breathtaking. Kami help him! Her blue hair radiating vibrancy and youth in the sea of red this planet was. As he came to stand next to her in the archway overlooking his garden, drawing a thin hood over his gravity-defying mane, Bulma found herself reminiscing of the foreign texture of his mane- his eyes surveying the garden and the walls of the Capital with displeasure, lingering on buildings as if looking for spies hidden behind everything Saiyan Bulma was yet to lay eyes upon.

Positively giddy with excitement that she would finally be able to explore more of the culture, the scientist was not prepared for what happened next. The ground shook and her vision blurred, pain exploding in her ringing ears as she found herself face to face with the polished floor of the palace - a strong hand on her shoulder the only thing to steady her.


	17. Of Betrayal and Credence

There is some pretty explicit death content in here. Just FYI.  
Settle in :)

* * *

As the painful ringing in her ears finally subside to the frantic rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins, allowing her mind to process what was happening around her, what had shaken the walls and caused her to lose of footing - Bulma dimly recognized that the hand against her shoulder felt impossibly hot, too hot for a human, forcing her blue eyes to peel themselves away from the polished floors - she came face to face with Vegeta. Only for everything to be all wrong.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and Bulma was sure that under different circumstances she might have screamed - it was Vegeta she was looking at, of that she was sure, she would recognize his regal nose and high cheekbones anywhere - but his eye and hair color was all wrong. The dark spikes she had grown accustomed to had turned a rich gold, sitting atop his head like an eternal crown and the darkest eyes she had ever seen, focused on her intently, had given way to teal depths that held something otherworldly and dangerous in their profoundness. Her skin prickled with a looming sense of foreboding. The air around him smelled of ozone, the very molecules cracking and shifting around them under the fierceness of his power, heat licking at her delicate skin like hot summer wind in the midday sun on one of her parent's speedboats.

Had she created this with her suit?! Or had this change always loomed inside of him and she had aided a transformation she never even knew existed?!

The moment was fleeting, his attention diverting from her faster than she could blink, the hand steadying her, supporting her, disappearing only for Bulma to hit the floor with her knees - catching herself on her hands just in time to witness through Vegeta's spread legs a bright ball of energy hurtling towards them like a messenger of doom, her tongue feeling heavy in her own mouth - only for Vegeta to effortlessly swat the sphere back to their assailant, before phasing out of sight and allowing Bulma her first real look at the intruder.

Androids.

Her universe shrunk - her brilliant mind taking over, her body settling on fight over flight -till the only thing she perceived was the young humanoid man across the sprawling hall. The king was a flurry of movement not too far from him, going head to head with another machine - another creation that seemed so eerily human that had Bulma not received her own specimen to study, to tear apart, to rebuild, to learn and grow, she would have mistaken them as actual flesh and blood human beings.

The machines focus on her narrowed - his lips twitched in a self-assured smirk and her hand reached for her capsules on its own accord. It was still a prototype, she hadn't shared it with anyone, she hadn't even tested it - Bulma had clung to the secrets of the androids waiting for the right moment. Waiting for this moment! No time like the present. Steel in her spine and determination brimming in her blue eyes she pushed herself to her feet, a woman determined to rise, determined to carve her own name into history, she clicked the all-black capsule with unshakable conviction, opening her palm and hoping for her math to be flawless.

From the corner of her eye she saw Vegeta make contact with the solid wall of the palace, heard the thud of his body against unforgiving stone, golden hair matted by the red dust, followed by the sickening snap of a bone - the hum of her invention and the beating of her own heart deafening all other sensations as her combat suit encased her arm, spreading over her torso and enveloping her upper thighs, folding over her spine -shielding her from the outside world, the wreckage of battle, cloaking the hammering of her heart within her own ingenuity. It was heavy - too heavy for her to move - but then the small engines hummed to life and the moment of panic was over, illuminating her strengthened limbs in the eerie glow of blue, a stark contrast to the red planet, a homage to the world of her birth, making a power brim behind her trigger finger as she had never felt before.

The moment of surprise was hers.

She launched forward, caught off guard by the capabilities of her own brainchild, the distance between her and the android shrunk in the blink of an eye, her encased fist drawing back and swinging forward as if guided by an invisible force, the scientist felt the impact, watched in utter horror as the androids face contorted in pain - an expression all too human - before her own limb exited its chest cavity. During her intensive studies she had learned that the power core sat there, right where the heart would be, shielded by programming and wires to detect any possible threat and protect it at all costs - with only one downfall - their remaining humanity and her calculated estimation that they would freeze in surprise, at least for a few seconds.

Bulma had been right. The moment seemed to stretch on forever as she was now face to face with this marvel of engineering, watching as its power core frizzled around the encasing of her combat suit - and then she screamed. A blood curling agonizing scream as the delicate circuits of her prototype fried and misfired, being overcharged by direct contact with the androids power core. It felt like fire shooting up her limbs, encasing her, trapping her in her own skin, her own invention, robbing her of the ability to move, to extract her arm - to end the agony.

Panic exploded inside her as she was trapped in a skin-tight prison, struggling futility, she could see Vegeta, eyes wild and movements forceful as he perceived her predicament, she could see him having the android by the throat, could see him as clear as she saw the fist her combat opponent made, eyes flickering as the power drained out of him and his clenched hand collided with her own chest, encased by the suit, before the mechanical joints finally stilled and time rushed forward, catching up, tumbling over itself and zooming past her. Pain detonated in her rib cage, precious oxygen leaving her lungs in traitors rush as the world around zipped past, the noise level around her rising at dizzying speed before sinking into all-engulfing darkness.

* * *

It felt like her eyes were glued shut, lashes sticking together stubbornly no matter how hard she tried to open them, brain still foggy it took her a moment to realize that the chaotic humming around her was the sound of voices - lots and lots of voice speaking a mixture of languages, slivers of galactic standards become fragmented sentences in her brain before Bulma remembered the fight - the androids - and her eyes finally opened. The bed she was laying on is minimal, militaristic even and she realized she was in the med bay - and it was busy . Forcing herself to sit up, ignoring the world spinning around her she saw her prototype on the floor - hours and hours of trial and error torn to pieces - likely to save her life. She had gotten the idea from old legends Master Roshi had told her and Yamcha, sitting around the fire at 16, eager for adventure and a taste of the world, legends that only a god could kill a god - leading her to the hypothesis that perhaps an android could kill an android. Sticking to her skin like cotton in the summer heat she peeled the thin sheet back, fluid caked thick on her skin and she stumbled on unsteady legs to the small modest corner shower stall, scrubbing herself with vigor, the cleaning gel smelling too medical, too sterile, examining the skin of her arm, on her chest, the lines she knew must have been burned bad by the electrical wiring that had laid against the organ while wearing the suit. No scars. No marks. No blemishes.

Her mind unbidden wondered what must have happened to Vegeta's back to leave it in such shape - covered in deep angry welts.

Unable to find her capsules, or the remains of her dress the scientist pulled a pair of neatly stacked Saiyan suits from a small shelf next to the shower, the dark fabric surprisingly soft against her cleaned skin - her fingers hovered over the button for the door before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the medical bay - and into chaos.

Everything was a flutter of movement, tall ceiling to floor windows across the room proclaiming the late hour, darkness had fallen - the late afternoon and its setting suns long forgotten, brown tails, and armors, dark hair and the hissing sounds of the Saiyan native tongue mixing with galactic standard in a rising level that made her head spin, Bulma didn't know where to go, much less where to look first, no one had noticed her, blue tresses in a sea of dark hair, she distantly wondered if she would be able to find her way back to her room when long hair caught her attention - Radditz!

He was hurrying across the med bays sterile big main hall, weaving in and out of people with expert care, maneuvering past equipment, used to the bustling life of the palace, the aftermath of battle, the carnage that came with it, her arm already halfway in the air, his name forming on her lips when she froze - he was carrying a child . A mere infant from the looks of it. The blue-head hesitated for merely the fraction of a second, her legs all but having a mind of their own as they dashed after the Saiyan, following his wild mane through the sea of creatures, with each step there was panic rising in her throat, an unnatural fear born from instinct whose origin she could not name, she only knew deep in her bones that something was not right.

Raditz had never mentioned having a child, had never given her the impression that he had anything to care for other than his own amusement. Rounding a corner and finally laying eyes on the mysterious infant she almost tripped over her own feet - his eyes were dark, peeking over the muscled shoulder of the man that was undoubtedly his father, the bare skin protected by the uniform of war, he was all Radditz - wild dark hair, that would undoubtedly be long, a soft brown tail, the complexion of his skin - but his nose was all ... Akia . As the final piece of the puzzle fell into place in her mind's genius eye her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat and she had to cover her mouth to keep from retching. Steadying herself with a shaky hand against the palace wall she spotted Vegeta just past the long-haired Saiyans towering form - Nappa was standing close to the tank, concealing most of the Kings body from her, but Bulma could see clear as rain that he was floating, his face obscured by a mask, hair matted by the thick bubbling green liquid engulfing him. Anger rises in the pit of her stomach, searing up her spine like electricity as her throat burned with betrayal - nullifying any worry his current state would have caused her.

He knew! He had known all along and he didn't tell her! He had come to her lab almost every day and he had never told her!

Shaking with anger her vision tunnel, she would never be able to make it passed Radditz and Nappa no matter how much she wanted to yank his royal lying ass out of the healing tank - breathing rapid and shallow Bulma spotted another sore point of betrayal - his gravity suit! Correction, her gravity suit ! It laid tattered and for all world discarded on the slick, sterile floors of the med bay.

If the Saiyans were not going to give her answers - she was going to find them herself!

* * *

Her knuckles were white, gripping the IPS too tight, breathing ragged and out of control as she waited, waited for agonizing minutes as the system downloaded and analyzed the data. She was light-headed, she wanted to scream and rage, throw equipment till tears burned out on her cheeks, till the sense of betrayal subsided to a dull throbbing till life was less of a lie. The way back to her laboratory had been a mad dash, a power walk, the older sleeveless model suit folded under her arm leveling anyone who dared to look at her for too long, anyone who dared to might speak up, with her deadliest glare. It was late in the evening, suggesting she had spent a considerable amount of time unconscious after her fight with the android - anxiety itching her skin at the mere thought of what she had done, the act she had committed - straightening her spine Bulma decided she would deal with it later, pushing the unwelcome feeling down, down till an odd sense of hollowness licked at the very edges of her being.

In and out, in and out - she told herself, trying to stop the mad beating of her heart, decidedly stamping on the pesky feeling that she was doing something wrong, that she was betraying his trust by grabbing the suit and getting the true data. It was an older model she had created during hot summer months, it was sleeveless and its presence in the medical bay suggested that Vegeta had worn it underneath his loose pants and embroidered top - the thought of the King made her blood boil again, hotheadedness like she had not experienced it since her youth threatening to boil over when the console finally beeped.

The Interactive Planetary System the only light source in her laboratory, casting long shadows that only rivaled the moons, as Bulma finally laid eyes on the raw, unaltered data of her creation her brain went silent.

It did not happen often, seldom was there any readout she couldn't decipher, couldn't make heads or tails of, but what she was seeing on the interactive surface made little sense. The graphs surging and falling in an odd wave-like pattern, starting each new cycle at a higher baseline. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Vegeta's power rose, as anticipated, before spiking and then free-falling to dangerous levels, below baseline, below anything any sane person would ever categorize as safe - before starting at a new day, on a higher baseline, repeating the same skyrocketing and free-falling pattern.

In trance-like confusion she watched her own hand reach for the surface of the system and swipe backward, through months and months of training, countless sunrises and sunsets, the pattern always repeated - sometimes more drawn out, sometimes frantically close together, the gravitational setting always climbing, suddenly explaining his constant inhumane need for more more more.

Running her fingers through her wild blue air-dried tresses Bulma realized that the only explanation she had was insane, absolutely senseless, irrational unbalance insanity; it looked like Vegeta was exerting himself to the brink of death - only to start anew stronger a few hours later.

Heart in her throat, hands shaking with the forbidden knowledge she just discovered Bulma ran through the coding of her suit, trying to find anything to measure th- ... her world shifted, her arm burned violently in its socket as a strong hand yanked her around with superhuman speed. Laboratory equipment shattered noisily on the floor as she fought to stay upright, her eyes only slowly focusing on the intruder - and her heart sank in her chest.

Vegeta.

"You fucking bitch!" his voice deep and venomous, echoing off the walls like sentences of doom, "you are with them!" accusation was heavy in his voice, his anger only underlined by the sweep of his arm, clearing one of her meticulously set-up tables in one fluid motion; even only clad in a dark spandex suit he was imposing, tall, muscular and towering - and pissed off.

Stepping closer the King seemed to radiate heat that burned against her skin like a dangerous flame, his eyes so dark and flickering they threatened to drown her, his next words stung like a slap to the face, like a question of her character, like a dismissal of everything she had sacrificed for his empire already;

"You are the fucking spy!"

The wrench was in her hand before she could form a retort, hurling it across the room with terrifying accuracy; "you have the gall of calling me a spy?!" he dodged the tool, "after everything I have done for this kingdom!?" merely side-stepping it like a minor inconvenience, "you are a fucking liar Vegeta!".

Her voice burned at her own volume, his facial expression betraying a brief ounce of confusion and she pressed on; "I know about Raditz! About Akia! About the baby! " slamming her fist against the console, "were you ever going to tell me? About anything?! The Suit?" she gestured wildly to the piece of fabric.

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her mention of the suit. "Woman you better not dare t-"

"I dared your highness! I dared ! Because I knew you were lying and holding back!"

She barely suppressed a startled sound of surprise when he phased out of sight only to reappear directly in front of her face, eyes twitching, jaw working like a deadly animal on the hunt, vibrating with poorly concealed rage.

"You are accusing me of holding back? You better thank your gods' woman otherwise you would be dead right now" he was so close, his breath a hiss against her skin, " you held back whatever little contraption you used against the androids".

Vegeta's chest was hard as a rock when she poked him, unforgiving and solid as his eyes, stubborn woman she was, Bulma pressed forward regardless, she was not going to be intimidated by him.

"I held back because I knew you were lying to me", it felt horrible being accused of being a liar, the scientist was many things, but not a liar, "that's all you do Vegeta, you hold back. You hold back the truth from me, you hold back access, you hold back from actually sharing anything about you - but most of all, you hold yourself back from everything you truly want. You have the universe at your whim, at your fingertips !"

The last words merely louder than a whisper, her rant having turned deeper and more honest than she had planned, revealing more about herself and her thought processes about him than she had meant to- high on the emotions of adrenaline and betrayal, of scientific discovery and shock.

His jaw worked, eyes focused intently on her, boring into her, the soft light of the IPS illuminating his tan skin, high cheekbones singing chorales of his royal lineage, hair rising high like the moons in the night sky just passed his muscled shoulder, deafening silence stretching between him - the air all but crackling between their bodies, only inches apart, the pull between them rising as his breathing grew harsh, before he turned his face and exhaled in an attempt to dispel the soaring tension, a dry and sarcastic chuckle.

"Woman, you couldn't handle what you are asking for"

Her chance to back out. The remnants of adrenaline, of battle, coursing through her, whispering a siren song of rage and betrayal turning into something else entirely, sanity be damned - Bulma Briefs loved a challenge.

"I killed an Android today."

* * *

He washed over her like a wave, an unstoppable force that was going to swallow her whole, her back hit the laboratory wall with a thud, robbing her lungs of oxygen as the sound of tearing fabric filled the room. Cool air laved against her most private parts and large rough palms grabbed the back of her knees and manhandled her just where he wanted her - Bulma's fingers gripping the hair at the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to steady herself in the spinning of the universe. By the time she had regained her ability to breath, greedily sucking air into her lungs, his lips had already found her neck, kissing, licking and biting the delicate skin, his hips already rolling into her - a silent dare of what was still to come - the frantic pace, friction and pent up lust soaking her core almost instantly.

Yanking on his dark spikes as hard as she dared Bulma pulled his face to her, touching her own lips to his, luxuriating in the foreign texture of his tongue, the battle for dominance as her legs wound around his narrow hips as tightly as possible, wanting to increase the delicious pressure building between her legs. Even thru the material of his dark two-piece suit, his cock felt thick and deliciously hard - making her whimper in anticipation against his lips.

He moved to push his pants just past his taunt hips, Bulma wanted to protest, wanted to feel his hard muscles against her bare skin, his fingers wrapped around her neck cutting off all objection, his thumb under her chin guided her gaze to look him in the eyes, daring, challenging, eyes so dark and close she wanted to get lost in their depths, be damned she couldn't look away. He was throbbing, resting against the inside of her thigh, his breath feathering across her features as their noses almost touched. This was happening . Corded muscles wrapped in fur wound around her left knee, spreading her legs wider as he stepped impossibly closer, his other hand wrapped around her hip, thumb caressing the bone as he angled her just right, pressing against her opening. His eyes darted low before finding her own blue oceans again with warlike intent - he stilled and waited. She noded.

Blood rushing in her ears as he pushed forward incrementally. Bulma's breath caught in her throat, fingers digging into his shoulder and the muscles of his bicep, her back arching on its own accord, the only thing preventing her from looking down their bodies and finally seeing what felt to be his impossibly thick member, was his thumb still under her chin – forcing her to return is heated gaze, eyes like nightfall, dark as the universe he owned, she couldn't tell where his pupils ended or began, their breaths mixing in the small space between their lips, breathing hard and ragged– he was thick, stretching her open like no one before.

Each incremental slide deeper burned between her legs in a manner she hadn't experienced before, her eyes squeezing shut with a soft whimper - maybe she couldn't handle it after all - the request to slow forming on her lips, when the hand around her throat slid down her sternum, Vegeta stilled, softly giving her breast a caress before slipping over the flat of her stomach to her center, sharp teeth carefully playing with her lower lip requesting entrance. Releasing a shaky breath she hadn't even realized she was holding Bulma relaxed against the wall, her hands finding purchase on his wide neck as she pulled him closer still to deepen the kiss. The King increased the pressure of his fingers against her wet core and she mewled into his mouth, tongue playing with his own for dominance, and when he pulled back to push slightly further again she welcomed the pressure, her body having relaxed under the ministrations of his fingers.

On their own accord her eyes flicked open when his hips finally sat flush against her own, a fullness burning between her legs, her own face caught in a mixture of pleasure and pain, mouth slack in awe, his face had been resting in the crock of her neck, breath hot and panting, nipping at the soft skin there, but when he was sheathed fully inside her Vegeta let his head fall into his neck and Bulma watched in spell-bound aw as his eyelids fluttered in bliss, air leaving his lungs in an angry hiss caught between pleasure and pain as he heatedly swore under his breath – the warmth and moisture pooling between her legs intensified - no man before had ever worshiped her like this.

And then his hand was back, fingers caressing her neck, thumb lifting her chin to observe her flushed features as he regained control over his own faculties, a downright mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips before his eyes narrowed in devilish precision – his cock pulsing inside her, he leaned closer for one more misleadingly soft kiss, sliding back out to the tip before his hips snapped forward with force, pelvis rubbing against her already sensitive clit at just the right angle, and Bulma couldn't help the whimper of surprise and the subsequent moan of pleasure that fell from her lips.

The pace he set was punishing and she clung to him, fingers twisting in the texture of his dark hair whimpering wantonly. The sensation of him between her legs, pushing into her folds hard and unforgiving, throbbing with need was a burning sensation of the most satisfying friction. She was going to be sore. His hand against her hip was bruising, tilting her to meet each of his powerful thrusts and the pressure building inside her lower stomach was so intense and delicious that the small part of relational thought she had left almost scared Bulma. Compared to his towering and powerful frame she felt delicate and tiny, being held against the wall with ease, spread open and pulled into his hips with seemingly little effort on his part, muscles under tan skin rippling but not straining - she did not get much time to contemplate; as if sensing her building pleasure his hand left her throat, slipping between their bodies and rubbing firm small circles against her most sensitive part.

Bulma fell over the edge with a strangled cry that sounded foreign even to her own ears, legs shaking uncontrollably in his strong and steady hold as her body tensed almost painfully around him - she couldn't keep her eyes open, couldn't breath, couldn't think, as he continued to push into her without slowing down, hand having wrapped around her blue tresses, tilting her head back and exposing her throat to him as his nose pressed to her temple. Sharp teeth grazed her skin, his chest vibrating with a growl so low and animalistic she felt the vibrations in her own bones. Feeling his lashes against her soft cheeks she peeked at him from the corner of her blue orbs, watching his own eyes, half-lidded and glazed, observing himself sliding in and out of her, slick in her juices, his mouth slack with pleasure.

Cool fingers slid into his hair, massaging his scalp, appreciating the alien roughness of his mane as his movement began to turn frenzied, hips bucking roughly as he was nearing his own release.

His tail tightening around her knee, hand pulling her hips into his with bruising force, he came with a low and dangerous growl, baring his teeth against her throat like the wild and untamed force of nature he was, hips jerking roughly against her as he pushed as deep as he could - holding himself there.

His cum felt inhumanly hot against her already sensitive inside, sending pleasant tingles over her flesh, dialing up the susceptibility, causing Bulma to rock her hips against Vegetas in mindless bliss hoping to prolong whatever strange chemical reaction was making her feel this good. Always observant the Saiyan rubbed his pelvis against her, never pulling back, never pulling out of the wet warmth that enveloped him, breathing still harsh and ragged, sweat-slick on his spine, as Bulma shuddered through a soft second peak - her sweaty brow resting against his shoulder in exhaustion.

They stayed like that for a while, covered in the moons light, pressed against the wall until their breathing evened out - setting her back down on shaky legs, Vegeta settled his forehead against the top of her head, exhaustion clinging to his body after the events of the day, watching down their bodies, past the rise of her breasts and the flat of her stomach how his essence ran down the inside of her thighs.

"I came in you" his voice raspy, still thick with post-orgasmic bliss, "you wi-"

"It's okay - " she interrupted "I'm on birth control". He was a little late worrying about that after.

He chuckled against her hair, an odd mix between amused and sleepy, "I can smell that you aren't … receptive.. right now" his hand ghosted over her breast, nose coming down to drag against the spot where her neck met her shoulder, "you smell like I just came in you .a. lot." smugness thick in his voice, she could feel his teeth, a smirk pulling against her skin, "others will be able to smell it too"

Oh.

"You will need to wash".

* * *

It happened ;)

Let me know what you all think - thank you for sticking with me!


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